


The Haircut

by Lulu3



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Haircuts, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4701386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulu3/pseuds/Lulu3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four gets a haircut and Eric falls in love. </p><p>(Not with Four, though!)</p><p>Eric/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to you, Erica. You asked for Eric getting his haircut, and it turned into this!!

To Erica, who asked for this to be written. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

 

 

Four's hair looks stupid.

Well, it always looks stupid, but today it looks a whole different kind of stupid. Eric tries to pretend he doesn't notice it, because he prefers it when he doesn't ever notice Four. But he can't help it. Someone has cut the sides way too short, and shoved the middle of it up like some sort of deranged fin.

Four strides past him, oozing an air of coolness that he doesn't really have.

"Hey Eric." He throws out, picking up the list of initiates that are currently shouting and punching each other in a display of manliness.

Eric rolls his eyes, and focuses on the class in front of him. He hates them already; each one nothing more than an annoying pest he'll have to help mold into some semblance of a soldier. This group seems especially exasperating.

"Four." His voice is monotone, and he hopes it conveys his rapidly lessening tolerance of the other trainer.

"Thought I'd try something new." Four comes to a halt beside him, standing with a wide stance. "New class, new look, right?" He throws Eric a look as if they have the sort of comradery between them in which they discuss their hair.

Eric's eyes flick upwards for the barest of seconds before he returns to glaring at the class. He sighs, hoping Four will wander away soon. He can't even be sure that Four is talking about his stupid hair.

So he merely huffs in response.

"Ellie cut it." Four tells him, and Eric wonders at what point in their Leader and Trainer working relationship was he required to listen to Four talk about his hair. He wasn't even supposed to be training this damn class. Max had sent him down here, with the threat of demoting Eric to his own personal assistant if Four's class did not produce an extraordinary group this session. Four had gotten the reputation of being too nice, and everyone knew Eric was incapable of being any sort of nice.

"Who's Ellie?" He snaps. He watches the class mill around, one of the taller initiates stumbling awkwardly towards the punching bags. He can feel the scowl forming on his lips and he's only been in the training room for a few minutes.

Four wrinkles his brow at Eric, surprise crossing his face. "How do you not know? She cuts your hair, too." He informs him. Eric shrugs, completely unaware of who cuts his hair. He's gone to the same girl for the past two years. She seemed to always be there when he went in, and she knew what he wanted and she didn't ask him a million questions. In fact, most of the times they barely spoke and he felt it worked out rather well.

"Are you ready to get started?" He turns to Four, his expression sliding from bored to more bored. "I don't want to be here all day."

"Well you have to." Four answers, a hint of cheerfulness behind his voice. Eric briefly wonders if Ellie happened to stab Four in the head with her shears during his latest haircut. He seems to be having some sort of mental lapse this morning.

They walk towards the class, Eric's boots stomping over the mats with little enthusiasm.

"You know, Tris hates it."

Eric glares at him from the corner of his eyes.

"I off handed mentioned that Ellie liked it, and then it got started on this whole tangent about did I think Ellie was pretty and maybe I should date her if she likes my hair so much…" Eric can feel the irritation creeping up his spine. It's too early in the day for Four to try to bond with him like they're at some sleepaway camp.

"I don't really care." Eric tells him, his eyes blazing at the class. They seem inept, and for a quick moment he can see himself, filing Max's paperwork for the rest of his days in Dauntless.

Four shrugs. "I didn't think it was a big deal. And she has a boyfriend…"

Eric turns to him, his grey eyes flashing cold. "Stop talking. I'm not here to fill in for Tris as the one who gets the pleasure of listening to you yap all day long. Start your class, so we can wrap this day up quickly."

Four gets the message, or he doesn't. He just raises an eyebrow, and it only exaggerates his stupid haircut.

 

 

She is pretty.

Eric sits in the chair, watching her shave the sides of his head. He's never really noticed before, probably because his standards of pretty were impossibly high. No one in Dauntless really met them. It was easier for him to have his fun and kick them out before the morning came. No use in finding out what they really looked like without their perfectly done eyeliner and their overly styled hair.

She's not what he would typically think is pretty. She's got this reddish brown hair that looks kind of like his before he forces it back and in place. She's kind of scrawny for Dauntless, but she's obviously passed the initiation. She looks a few years younger than him, but he can't remember her being in his class.

He stares at her, eyes narrowing at she steps in front of him to comb the front down. There's a tattoo on her wrist that peeks out from beneath her sleeve, and he can see the tiniest bit of one from underneath the collar of her shirt. She's got a few piercings here and there, but nothing extraordinary. She meets his gaze through his hair, and he realizes she has very pretty blue eyes.

He averts his stare immediately.

She finishes quickly, applying the same sort of paste that he uses every morning, and he wonders if she can pick up on his discomfort.

"Good?" She asks, showing him the back. It looks the same as it always does, but he nods and holds her stare.

"Four's hair looks stupid." The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he clamps his mouth shut. For a moment he thinks she will be insulted, after all, she's the one that cut it. But her face breaks out in a smile and she laughs quietly.

"I thought so, too. But I have to do what people ask for." Eric snorts. He knew Four picked out that stupid haircut himself. She undoes the cape for him, and before he can say anything else, a stylist in training trots over and leads him to rinse out his hair, and Ellie slips away.

He leaves without saying goodbye.

But he transfers her few extra points, feeling hot when he signs his name across the line.

 

 

Four's class loses two initiates in the first week.

It's not surprising to Eric. One of them was a boy from Amity; willowy limbs and a wobbly smile. He'd looked a little horrified by the punching bags, and he been knocked unconscious the first few minutes of his first fight. He'd graciously left, claiming he'd prefer to be factionless than to be a part of such a violent community.

Four had nodded seriously, and Eric had sneered after him, wondering what possessed the kid to choose Dauntless.

He knew he'd run back to Amity. There was a delightful rumor that they usually allowed their failed transfers to come crawling back to them. It took a lot of man power to run their fields, and they weren't likely to turn down the help. No one protested. All the factions depended on them for food, and the other factions weren't exactly fighting to take over for them.

The second had surprised him. He was from Candor, mouthy as shit, and he'd cracked a few ribs after he fell during one of their runs. Eric couldn't even be sure how it happened, but he'd listened to Four and crossed the boy's name off the list with an exasperated sigh.

Today he watched them scramble to assemble their guns. He'd prepared for the worst; just waiting for someone's to go off in their face. Four stopped in front of him, his hair flattened in an attempt at normalcy.

"Tris is still mad at me." He crosses his arms and shifts beside Eric. "I think this might be our first real fight."

Eric merely grunts. Four and Tris had been together since her class a few years ago. She wasn't the worst person Eric had ever met, but combined with Four, they were intolerable. And he certainly didn't give two shits about their relationship.

"Fascinating." Eric responds dryly.

The class finishes assembling the guns. There are a few that Eric can see potential in, but just a few.

 

 

He runs into Ellie in the mess hall.

He's never noticed her in here before. Or anywhere around the compound really. And he was pretty observant.

She's standing a few people ahead of him in line, surrounded by a group of friends who are all staring at her sympathetically. He watches her tilt her head and shrug her shoulders. Her friends scatter as he takes a step closer, their dinners in their hands.

He clears his throat, having no one real reason to talk to her.

She looks up at him, surprise crossing her face. "Oh, hi Eric."

He towers over her. He never really realized how short she really is. She barely comes up to his chest, and he squints at the flat shoes on her feet. Maybe his perception was skewed because he'd always been sitting down anytime he'd seen her. He looks to the side for a moment, making sure no one is really paying attention to them.

They aren't.

"Why are you so short?" The words come out and he feels a burning rush of mortification. This is the second time he's said something to her that he hadn't planned on saying. He's much smarter than this; he's got an excellent vocabulary and he's not sure what's rendered him so stupid in this moment. It's not like she holds any high position over him, there should be no intimidation on her part.

But all she does is smile, her lips turning upwards and she kind of laughs. "Couldn't tell you." She answers him shrugging. Her eyes suddenly light up. "Oh! I won't be there next Monday. I know you always come in to get the sides cleaned up, but I'm going to be in a class that day. I can tell Staci how to cut it if you want."

A spark of self-importance runs through him. He finds himself pleased she remembers when he comes in. "I'll wait for you. I think I can last an extra week."

Ellie nods, smiling as she steps away, clutching her plate in her hands. "I'll see you then."

He watches her walk away, jaw tensing when he sees Four watching him from across the hall.

 

 

On Friday Four's hair is parted to the side, and he couldn't look any dorkier if he tried.

Eric watches as Four's class awkwardly throws knives, some actually hitting the target but most falling to the floor with a loud clank. He wanders behind them, occasionally snapping at them to aim better, until Four comes up beside him.

"I think we should split up and each work with half. We might get better results that way." He's staring at Eric, with the sort of hopeful optimism that Eric despises. Eric sighs, and shrugs noncommittally.

"Fine."

Half an hour later, Eric's half can mostly hit the targets, and Four's half can somewhat hit the targets. Eric gloats a bit, dismissing his team and making his way towards the table where his tablet sits. Beside him, Four sighs heavily.

"I think Tris is going to break up with me."

Eric glares from the corner of his eyes, clicking on the message from Max. He finds himself scowling even deeper at the questioning e-mail.

"She said she needs some space."

For once, Eric can sympathize with Tris's feelings.

 

 

His hair touches the collar of his jacket, and he feels like some unkempt creature.

Eric shoves the collar up angrily, hoping to cover the offense length in the back. Ellie, was not there on the following Monday, and he'd tensed at the idea of letting someone named Bubbles near his head.

"I'll come back." He snarled. The lady at the front desk seemed a bit terrified, and she shrunk back after he rebuked her offer of a substitute stylist.

"Sorry, she called out." She tells him, her eyes widening as he glared.

He doesn't care.

Or he shouldn't care. He tried to ignore the angry burning in his stomach. She could have at the very least told him...

He stops in his tracks. Why would she have told him? She wouldn't even know how to get a hold of him. She's nothing more than the stylist that cuts his hair, and she has every right to call out of work. By the time he reaches the Pit his anger has mostly dissipated. He'll find someone to take his mind off this annoyance; hopefully someone who won't notice his suspiciously longer hair.

Eric nearly groans when Four slides up next to him, flanked by Peter. Four looks miserable and Peter looks slightly elated.

"Tris dumped him." Peter announces, jerking his thumb at Four as though Eric were too stupid to realize who Tris was dating. "Without so much as a warning."

"Congratulations." Eric snaps, shoving past them. He can hear Peter snort behind him.

"Let's go find someone to help cheer you up." Peter's voice carries through the Pit, and Four's weak protests come shortly after. Eric ignores them both, and continues stomping through until he's almost through to the other side.

He needs a drink. These past few weeks have been absolute shit. He doesn't know what's worse; being assigned to babysit Four's class or that fact that he's found himself whole heartedly disappointed that Ellie wasn't there to cut his hair.

The last thought nags unpleasantly in his mind.

He straightens his spine.

He'll focus only on the first one.

 

 

She's finally back, and Eric's jaw is clenched so tightly it's becoming painful.

He's been waiting for her to return, like some sort of obsessive stalker. Meanwhile his hair has looked like utter shit. He didn't feel like tying Four in some unofficial hideous hair contest. So when he saw her, standing beside her chair, wiping off a pair of shears, he jumped at the chance to get his hair cut.

He'd found himself with a free afternoon. Four's class had taken a field trip to the fence, and because Lauren would also be there, Eric gleefully excused himself from going. Sure, he would miss out on potentially shoving Four onto the other side of the fence, but the lure of short hair was much more appealing.

So he'd signed in, reading his messages while he waited for her.

Most were from Max, including several expressing his gratitude for Eric helping him out. That threw him off. He hadn't really been given a choice. He narrowed his eyes as he clicked out of that one. He was almost done when an alert popped up on the bottom.

He sneered at the name next to the icon.

Four- _Are you getting a haircut?_

He was tempted to not respond. The messaging system was new; Max wanted a way to easily communicate with his leaders, and it just so happened anyone with a tablet had the new messenger system. Including Four.

He angrily typed back YES, in all capitals, hoping his annoyance would read through.

Four- _I thought your hair looked weird._

Eric grits his teeth.

Four- _Her boyfriend dumped her. I tried to get mine cut a few days ago and she wasn't there._

His fingers freeze, and he feels warm humiliation shoot through him. Why was Four telling him this. He didn't think Eric actually cared about the girl, did he? The icon shows Four's continued typing, and Eric is tempted to close the chat before the next message comes.

Four- _Ask her if she'll be there tomorrow._

Eric types back FINE and closes the window. Someone calls his name, and he stands up, his eyes fixed ahead.

 

 

She looks sad and he tries not to notice.

Ellie cuts his hair after a quiet apology about missing his appointment. He shrugs at her. She doesn't owe him anything, and where she was is not his business. He feels delighted when she finishes the sides. His head feels lighter, and it already looks better. She holds up the first section on top and he nods.

"Just a little off the top." His tone makes him sound like a dick, but he can't help it.

She snips away, her eyes never meeting his.

He can feel his shoulders tensing up, and he's overcome by the urge to shake her. She's never been overly cheery to him, but he doesn't like her like this. Like someone had kicked her in the stomach and then forced her right back into work.

"Sorry about your boyfriend." He finds himself muttering. She freezes, her fingers in his hair. She takes a second and looks down, and he realizes she looks embarrassed.

"Thanks." She finally says, soft enough that only he can hear it. She doesn't meet his eyes again. Ellie finishes quickly, and he nods in satisfaction.

"Thanks for waiting for me." She's looking somewhere behind him, her eyes slightly wet looking.

No one has ever cried over him, so presses his lips into a fine line, and nods before he walks away.

 

 

He can't sleep worth shit anymore.

His bed is too uncomfortable; he's too hot then too cold. The blankets too heavy, the sheets too irritating. He shoves the covers back, throwing himself out of the bed. It's early in the morning, sometime right before five, and he might as well get up.

He makes his way down to the training center.

It's deserted in the early morning, and he uses it to his advantage. He takes out all his pent up aggression on the punching bags, then quickly works through his weight training. His arms burn by the time he is done, he's pushed himself even harder than normal, but he feels slightly more like himself.

Eric dresses quickly after his shower; the uniform is familiar, the dark shirt and even darker jacket are sharp and crisp as ever. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he stares his own reflection down. Pale skin and slick hair, grey eyes and a sneer.

He's not anyone to lose sleep over, and he can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he was.

 

 

He goes back for a clean-up earlier than normal.

He blames it on the fact that he has a leaders meeting this Friday, but he knows that's not the real reason. He wants to know how she's doing, but it feels reprehensible to admit that, even to himself. Only the weak ones find themselves actually caring about the well being of others. His parents showed him that. They raised him to be the best, the smartest, the fastest, the greatest at everything. Never once did they tell him to stop and make sure complete strangers are doing a-okay.

But Ellie isn't a complete stranger.

Not entirely.

He doesn't quite know what he would classify her as.

She stands to the side of him, taking the edgers around his ears and around his neck. Her fingers hold his head in place, and he watches her carefully.

She looks pretty today.

He shifts in his seat, and meets her stare in the mirror. Her dress is a dark blue, almost black and it falls off one shoulder. His gaze fixes there, his fingers curling beneath the cape. He finds himself wondering what it would feel like to touch her, to run his fingers along her exposed skin.

The urge is almost overwhelming, and it makes him feel ill. He needs to stop. He doesn't have time for this, and she doesn't need him becoming creeped out by him. And he doesn't to find himself being forced to find another stylist because he's made an ass out of himself with his current one.

But she merely smiles, her cheeks slightly pink and she hangs up the edgers and leans back against the station. "Anything else you want me to do?" Her eyes are large and bright.

There are a lot of thing he'd like her to do, but he shakes his head and tries to ignore those thoughts.

"Have fun at your meeting." She tells him as he stands up. She comes up behind him, pushing herself up on her toes so she can unsnap the cape. He turns suddenly, and they are face to face. Well, he's facing her and she's facing his chest. He feels exposed without the cape, and even more without his jacket on.

He stares at her for a long moment, allowing himself to wonder what it would feel like to press himself against her.

"He's an idiot." Eric says. His voice sounds rough even to his own ears. She looks up at him, and smiles, pleasant surprise across her face.

"I agree."

Its more words than they've ever spoken.

He reluctantly steps away from her, wondering if he will ever be able to keep his mouth shut. He's obviously hung around his candor initiates too much. He's been reduced to blurting out whatever pops into his head.

He catches her stare as he goes to check himself out. It is friendly and sweet, obviously not for him. He leaves way too many points this time, signing his name with a heavy hand.

 

 

"More to the left." Eric tells the kid.

Four's class is getting better, at least Eric's half is. For some unknown reason, they seem to respond to him, and they have improved tenfold. He gets a small thrill of satisfaction when they hit all their targets, but he doesn't show it. He simply nods in approval, pacing behind them. Teaching isn't his thing, but he just needs to make it through this class and then he'll make Max promise to never assign him to this again.

Beside him Four sulks, his hair spiked up as though someone's electrocuted him.

 

 

Her ex-boyfriend is there the next time Eric gets his haircut.

He watches Ellie carefully; her whole body is tensed up, her eyes worried and her attention distracted. They can both hear him, making a fuss at the front desk, all because, _he just wants to talk to her._

Ellie bites her lip and catches Eric's stare, shaking her head. Her eyes are almost pleading and Eric finds himself nodding at her. She's just finished his hair, and she was asking him about how to connect some sort of monitor when they heard him.

Her posture had changed immediately, her fingers twisting together. Her nails are painted some dark color, and her knuckles turn a ghostly white from the pressure of her grip.

"I don't want to talk to him." She says it very quietly. Eric stands up, and stands close to her, bending his head down.

"Then you won't."

He can smell her shampoo, something sweetly floral and he resists the urge to nuzzle closer to her. It's not exactly intimidating if he's full on smelling her hair. He pulls himself to his full height, and he saunters over the desk. The woman behind it looks relieved as he approaches, and he takes in the sight of the disturbance.

He's disappointingly boring.

Eric smirks at him; the exboyfriend is average, tall and fit with dark brown hair. There is not one remarkable thing about him, and Eric finds himself glowering with delight.

"Here you go Eric." The girl nervously slides him the ticket, with Ellie's name atop of it. He writes an exuberant amount of points on it, and sneers at the man next to him.

"Can I help you?" The man asks him. His eyes are fixed on the ticket, and he grimaces. "I see you and Ellie are obviously good friends. Her haircuts aren't that great."

Eric cocks his head and steps closer to him, until they are almost touching. He smiles at the guy, baring his teeth at him.

"Don't come near her again. Or I'll make sure you don't."

His words are a hiss and a threat, and the idiot stumbles back a second. It looks like he's just realized who Eric is, and he takes off without another word.

He turns and finds Ellie beside him, and he nearly jumps when her fingers find his.

"Thank you."

She doesn't let go for a minute, and his stomach knots up when she finally does.

 

 

The knock on his door is unsurprising.

He's stepped out of his shower, and he dresses quickly in a worn t-shirt and a pair of boxers. The past few nights it's been Four, stumbling back from wherever he's downed his sorrows in cheap liquor, and mistaking Eric's apartment for his own. The last night he managed to make his way all the way in, passing out on Eric's couch before Eric could shoo him out.

He flings the door open, barking, "What?", in utter annoyance. He's taken back to find Ellie standing there, a plate of cupcakes in her hands. Her lips part in surprise at his agitation, and he immediately stiffens.

"Sorry." He mutters. "I thought you were Four."

"Four?" She asks, looking confused.

"Yeah." He sighs. "He's been recovering from his split with Tris and he'd ended up here the past few nights."

"How nice for you." She laughs. He likes the way she looks when she smiles, and he catches himself staring at her longer than necessary.

"Very. Do you, ah, want to come in?" He fumbles for a minute, feeling hot and awkward. He hasn't felt like this since he was young, and the girl in his class told him she liked his glasses.

Ellie nods, and carefully steps through his doorway. She glances around curiously, and he finds himself smirking.

"I don't want to bother you. I just wanted to drop these off as a thank you. For handling Mathew. I don't even know if you like cupcakes, but…" she trails off, setting the plate on his counter.

So the fucker has a name.

"I do like cupcakes." Eric tells her, watching her stand in his kitchen.

She seems pleased, and Eric can't help the small burst of warmth that runs through him. He actually loves cupcakes, but admitting that out loud seems a tad bit emasculating. She looks around, her eyes taking in the large apartment. He finds himself wanting her to stay, badly. He finds the feeling downright embarrassing.

"This is so much bigger than mine." She tells him, and he bites back the retort that comes to his mind. He has lots of bigger things he could show her.

Her eyes fall upon his bedroom door, and she opens her mouth to say something, when the sloppy knocking starts.

Eric closes his eyes, and wishes a very sudden death for the man on the other side of it.

"Is that Four?" Ellie asks him, her eyes amused.

He can merely roll his eyes, and storm back towards the door.

Tomorrow he will find Tris, and he will give her all his points if she will just get back together with Four already.

 

 

Her apartment is half the size of his, and it is warm and inviting.

While his is a constant state of cold perfection, hers looks like someone lives here. Her living room is brightly lit up, a rich brown sofa in the middle of it, complete with too many pillows and a soft looking blanket. There's a coffee table with a few books and glossy magazines, and several dozen slightly creepy mannequin heads with varying haircuts spread throughout the room. He almost kicks one over, stumbling back a bit as the sight of one with bright green dreadlocks.

"Interesting." He steps aside, setting the large monitor on the desk to the side of the wall.

"Sorry." She tells him, setting down the large brown paper bag that the cooks had given her. He'd offered to help her set up her monitor. It was fairly large, and she quietly confessed to him that she'd found it in crate at the latest trade shipment. He's found himself proposing to help her, and she'd looked ecstatic.

She unloaded their dinner while he worked, quickly setting up the monitor and connecting everything together. She set it down on the small table off of her kitchen. When he was done, he sat down across from her, enjoying the dinner she'd brought up.

He wondered if she and Matthew had always done this. Shared their meals together on a daily basis, living in such a state of normalcy. It makes his own life seem starkly solitary.

She smiles at him between bites of noodles, and he tries to ignore the flip in his stomach, as though he's just dropped off a very large building.

 

 

Tris narrows her eyes at him.

"No." She tells him, almost definitely. Her shoulders are squared and she holds her head high, daring him to say it again.

"It's an order." He snarls.

She shakes her head and purses her lips. "No Eric. I'm not getting back together with Four. And I don't want your points."

The frustration boils up in him, threating to burst. He clenches his fists and his jaw, anything to keep his emotions in check.

"He keeps showing up at my apartment, drunk off his ass."

Tris laughs loudly. Her shoulders shake as she continues on. "I guess he's your problem now." She shakes her head, taking a step back from his, still snorting with laughter.

Eric growls in frustration.

 

 

His half of the class takes the top fifteen spots on the ranking.

He's proud of them, he supposes. They've listened well, and they are definitely much better than Four's group. It doesn't help that Four has been a hot mess ever since he heard Tris had zero intentions of getting back together with him.

Eric glowers at Four as he runs a hand through his hair. It's longer now, his obsession with trying new styles coming to a halt as he apparently has nothing left to live for. It hangs in his eyes, and looks like he hasn't even attempted to comb it.

"Everybody take a break." Eric barks out, and he storms over to Four.

"What is your problem." He hisses, staring at the disheartened stance of the trainer. "You have a class to lead." Motivation is not his job, but he can't fathom Max discovering that Four's lovelorn attitude means half the class is about to fail. "Get your shit together." He glares down at him, and Four looks up, his eyes dull.

"What does Ellie see in you? You're not even a nice person." Four spits, and stomps off like a petulant child.

Four's words have never bothered him before, but this time he feels like someone has sliced him open and pulled his guts out for the world to see.

 

 

Her face pops into his head.

It always happens at the worst times.

In the middle of one of Max's meetings, in the middle of trying to rank his stupid class, or like now, in the shower as he tightens his grip around his throbbing erection. He doesn't mean to think of her like this; but he finds it happening more and more.

Ellie has been nothing but sweet and friendly, and he hasn't even seen her since he ate dinner with her.

Between taking over Four's class completely and trying to keep Four from drowning in whiskey, he hasn't had time to even get his haircut. He's missed his last two appointments, and he finally stopped by to apologize, only to find her backed up with five clients waiting for her. He'd tried to catch her gaze, like some desperate stalker, but she hadn't seen him.

He slunk away, telling the receptionist to tell her he was sorry, and he'd be by soon. She'd looked mildly amused, but had nodded and written his name down.

But now, now he thought of her. The way her eyes had stared up at him, the way she smelled like something sugary and sweet, and the way he had flat out oogled her bare shoulder. He could almost feel her, below him, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to her.

He came embarrassingly fast.

He stumbled forward for a second, catching himself against the shower tiles with one hand. His breathing was ragged, her face still flashing in his mind.

He couldn't let it happen again.

He wouldn't.

 

 

He shows up at her apartment, with every intent of telling her thank you, but he will be finding someone else to cut his hair, but he'll still help her keep Matthew away if need be. In his mind, it sounds fine. He'll make up some lie, like he's growing it out to try a new style, or that he's decided to just cut the damn thing himself every week. He starts thinking off all the things he can spend his extra points on.

More boots.

A new vest.

A deadbolt for his door and an electric fence that Four won't be able to get through.

No one answers the door. He waits several minutes, growing impatient. He raises his hand to knock again, when she finally opens the door. Her eyes are squinty and wet, her head down. It doesn't take anyone from Erudite to figure out she's been crying.

He clenches his jaw at the sight, not even wondering who made her cry.

"I'll kill him." He says it out loud, without thinking. Ellie's eyes widen, and she starts crying, really crying. She presses her palms to her eyes, and her shoulders shake.

"No!" She protests, and Eric feels a white hot flash of something rush through him. He feels nauseous when he realizes its jealousy. She can't actually want that asshole alive. His mind races; maybe she's back together with him. Maybe she's crying tears of happiness at her picture fucking perfect life with Matthew.

She takes a step towards him, her shirt exposing the same shoulder as before. He grits his teeth together, the sensation unpleasant. He tenses when she finds his fingers again, hers warm against his cold hands.

"He came by to drop some of my stuff off. He then proceeded to tell me what a terrible person I am, and went over every single thing he's ever hated about me. I just…I don't know, this has been a really bad week."

She looks lost and disheartened. He stares somewhere above her, wishing he knew what to do.

"I'm sorry to dump all that on you. You've done enough to help me." She's staring up at him, and he feels like someone has cracked open his chest. It aches for a second, his heart beating a pattern unfamiliar to him. His hands break free from hers, and one slides into her hair, his thumb touching her cheek softly. She's hardly a terrible person. She smiles at him, but it's halfhearted.

"Come with me." He hears himself say.

For a second, Eric panics at his own words. He was on his way here to unofficially dump her as his stylist, but not because she's a terrible person. The exact opposite. Because she's a good person, and he's simply losing his mind thinking about her.

"Ok." She looks up at him, her eyes still wet but a little bit brighter.

Eric swallows. His new path in life must be one where his mouth isn't connected to his brain.

 

 

She sleeps curled against him; her head buried in his neck. He wonders how she can breathe like that, but it doesn't seem to be a problem. Her body flush with his, one of her legs pressed between his, her hand on his chest.

It didn't take much coaxing to get her into his bedroom.

He had rare good intentions. He'd let her stay here for a few days, he'd try to keep her away from Matthew, and then he'd figure out what to do with the rest. He'd also work on training Four's class, attempt to fix Four's shit attitude, and convince Max he'd done a good enough job to not be demoted.

Christ, he needed a drink. Multiple drinks.

Instead he let himself lie beneath her, mildly uncomfortable.

In theory, this should have been some sort of fantasy come true. Guy gets the girl at her most vulnerable point, and they fall into a warm bed, seeking comfort in each other. No one has ever slept in Eric's bed other than Eric. And if anyone else was in it, there wasn't a whole lot of sleeping going on.

But Ellie had merely curled into him as if they'd done this before.

She fit nicely against him, her feet grazing his shins and her body deliciously warm against his. She smelled good, like the vanilla cupcakes she'd brought him. He swallowed thickly, trying to will himself to sleep. She'd drifted off easily, her fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt until she'd relaxed completely against him.

He shifts slightly, and she curls impossibly closer to him, sighing against his neck.

His heart beats loudly, and he wonders if she will wake up from the noise. What would she think if she found out that he's never actually shared a bed like this before? That he's never allowed anyone to be just quite so close to him.

The reality is, she probably wouldn't care. She'd just smile at him, and go back to sleep.

He relaxes the tiniest bit, his panic subsiding.

She feels good against him. He tries not to think if she slept with Mathew like this. His grip tightens on her, an unconscious reflex, and he finally starts to drift off when he realizes she's not going anywhere.

 

 

Four does not appreciate his wake up call, but neither does Eric.

He'd dragged himself out of his warm bed, away from a warm Ellie who'd almost mewled in protest when he'd slid out from beneath her. The sound headed straight for his dick, and he tried to ignore the stirring sensation. He had no time for it. At least now right now.

He'd come back to her later.

He'd come back to that later.

He told her where he was going even though she was half asleep, and placed a neatly written note next to the bed. He'd left a key, and even though that felt strange, he wanted her to come back. He didn't know her work schedule, but he didn't want her stuck wandering around until he was done; or worse, finding Matthew and opening herself up for a second round of insults.

So there he was, kicking on Four's door and yelling that the imbecile get up and get ready. Four had opened the door looking like some sort of vampire, pale skin and hair both sticking up and stuck flat to his head.

"Get ready. You have class in an hour. We can grab breakfast on the way." Eric found himself coolly informing him. Four blinked a few times, before nodding sheepishly.

Relief washes over Eric, surprising and satisfying.

 

 

The first time he kisses Ellie he doesn't entirely mean to. It had been a few weeks since she first stayed with him, and he's found he rather enjoyed her company.

She was quiet, but quiet in a way that felt good. She'd been happy to curl up on the couch with him, or simply sit with him while he worked away. He discovered she was smart, really smart, and she helped him organize the rest of the training plans, and she liked helping him rank the initiates.

He'd turned to tell her thank you, unaware that she was so close to him, her head cocked at him. His lips brushed her cheek first, then her lips.

She didn't jerk away from him; rather she pressed her lips back against his, almost shyly. He'd broken apart first, his eyes finding hers. His heart felt like someone was squeezing it, as the blood couldn't properly surge through his veins. She'd tilted her head closer to his, her nose brushing his, and her mouth found his again.

He kisses her for a long time, over and over until neither of them can breathe properly and he definitely can't stand up any time soon.

The realization that he actually cares about Ellie, in a way other than lustfully wanting her, hits him hard, in the middle of a meeting with Max and some random assistants from other factions. They are going on and on about fence maintenance and he finds a small part of him well up with panic at the thought of the sensors malfunctioning while Ellie was out there.

It was stupid really.

She probably couldn't tell you how to get to the fence, let alone how to climb up there. He knew her routine, and it certainly didn't involve cutting hair outside of the salon.

He swallows his panic down, trying to cure the blind horror that's rushing through him. He's not sure when started to feel like this, so utterly caught up in his own excruciating feelings, but it's caught him off guard. Max is looking at him curiously, and he ignores it.

"I think that about wraps it up." Max announces. The group disperses quickly, but Eric stays sitting at the table. Max shuts the door after the last person leaves, and slides back into his original seat. He stares at Eric for a long time before he speaks.

"I hear Four is doing better."

Eric's head snaps up, and for a minute he wants to rat him out. He wants to tell him that while Four is there, he's not actually there. He's still sulking about Tris, and he spends a lot of his time in the class staring at the wall while Eric critiqued the classes fighting.

It was starting to piss him off, but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't dare risk Max thinking he couldn't handle it.

So he nods at Max, and wonders when the fuck he became such an exuberantly kind person.

"He's doing much better. The class is going well. I think they'll do much better than last sessions." He informs him, staring down at his cuticles.

Max nods, and Eric can tell he believes him. It's halfway true.

"I hear you've got a girlfriend."

Eric stiffens, his whole body tensing as though someone has outed his darkest secrets. He narrows his eyes, and raises an eyebrow at Max, opening his mouth to answer him.

He finds that he can't.

He swallows thickly, grabbing the papers in front of him.

"I need to get back to the class." It's all he manages to make out, and he's out the door before Max can say anything else.

 

 

She's warm beneath him, and her bare skin against his is close to making him lose his shit much sooner than he'd like to.

He grits his teeth as his hips work against her, trying to focus on something other than Ellie. This was entirely her fault. She'd whispered to him, well- more into his neck than actually to him, that she'd been on birth control for a year now, and it was okay that he was out of condoms.

In hindsight, he should have told her no. He should have ignored the way his body was practically buzzing with the need to be close to her, and told her that he didn't quite do it this way. But he'd found himself drowning into her, muttering a strangled raspy "Okay."

It was too much.

She was too tight, too hot and slick, too deliriously everything underneath him. He didn't know what to think, because he couldn't form a coherent thought at the moment. She'd been sleeping in his bed for almost three months now, but he'd never pushed her for more than a goodnight kiss. You would have thought he was some damn Stiff at the way he was acting.

She arches closer to him, her nails scraping his back and he bites down on her neck and tries to picture Max, naked and making him organize his office. He tries to picture Four, with his hair slicked back like some sort of weird mafia member standing naked in front of the class. He tries to picture anyone and everyone but Ellie, and it works. For a minute.

She shifts beneath him, until she pulls his head towards her, kissing him tenderly. Her legs wrap around him, keeping him close, and before long he realizes she's tensing up around him.

He says a quick prayer of thanks, because he comes shortly after her, gasping her name and gracelessly collapsing onto her. She curls back into him, her body fitting perfectly against his, and they both fall asleep before he can remember the last time he ever had sex like this.

 

 

There are six lines shaved into the side of Four's hair.

Eric chooses not to pay any attention to them and instead shoves Four the list of initiates who need to practice their final simulations today.

"You need to finish all ten of them. By yourself. I'll be back in an hour and I hope you'll be done with at least one of them."

Four scowls, his eyebrows furrowing in, but he doesn't protest.

"Where are you going?" He finally asks, looking at Eric's retreating form. Eric doesn't answer. His half of the class is done, and he's given them the day off. Four can handle his own, he hopes. He makes his way out of the training room, and through the cavernous halls.

He's almost to Max's office when he spies Matthew leaving stalking down the hallway. Matthew comes to a half when he sees Eric, his face breaking into a smug grin.

"How's it going Eric?" He throws it out easily, as though he and Eric are longtime friends. Eric ignores him and keeps going, until Matthew stupidly steps in front of him. "I heard a funny rumor a few days ago. One that tells me you're now the lucky recipient of Ellie's subpar blowjobs."

Eric's fist connects with Matthews jaw with a satisfying crack.

His hand stings for a few hours after, but it doesn't bother him.

 

 

Ellie's are half closed, and she tries to shove him away from her as he kisses his way back up to her lips. Her thighs are parted for him, and he presses his lips to her throat as she squirms beneath him.

"Eric! It tickles! Stop!" Her words have a giggle to them, and he grins against her.

"No." He tells her, his fingers curling around one of her wrists. He holds it above her head, sliding inside of her. He sighs against her, her free hand making its way into his hair.

He's going to be late for the final fear landscapes. He was supposed to be back from his lunch fifteen minutes ago, but this is a much better way to spend his break than eating turkey warps and staring at the letter "D" that's been etched into the side of Four's hair.

Eric wanted badly to inform Four that people might think it stood for dick, or dumbass, or delusional. But he was a whole new kinder person now. He'd merely whispered it to Ellie who'd starting giggling the minute he brought it up.

"He made me do it. It's supposed to stand for Dauntless." She whispered, arching as he thrust harder.

Eric rolled his eyes and kissed her lips to quiet her. The only thing Dauntless about Four's new hair was that he was brave enough to walk around looking so stupid.

 

 

Max is pleased.

The class does really well, almost all of them passing their landscapes without too much trouble. Four stands beside him, hands clasped in front of him, and they watch the class file out through the building.

"Thank you, gentlemen." Max tells them. Eric watches as a few assistants power down the computers, and he sighs with relief as he realizes the training is done. Hopefully Max will be pleased enough that he will leave Eric alone and let him go back to his normal leadership duties.

"I need to thank you, Eric." Four's voice is quiet and serious. Eric tries hard to keep a neutral expression. He's managed to make it through the entire training session without murdering him, and he hopes whatever Four is about to tell him doesn't make him reconsider. "I uh, owe you one for helping me out. I don't know if I would have been able to finish the training without your encouragement."

Eric tries hard not to roll his eyes. "You can thank me by getting a normal haircut and not ever changing it again."

He can see Four nod out of the corner of his eyes, and Eric decides he will make Ellie promise to never listen to Four's requests again.

 

 

Eric falls asleep with his head on Ellie's chest, her fingers gently stroking through his hair.

Today was a good day.

Four had shown up in the Pit with his usual slightly broody expression, and his hair looked practically normal. He'd nodded at Eric, and made a beeline for the group that Peter was standing with. One of the girls, small and red haired had reached over, and found Four's hand. They stood together, smiling shyly at each other. Eric could only watch for a few moments before he started to feel ill at their obvious display of newfound affection.

So he'd headed home.

His apartment had never really felt like a home. It had always been a place to sleep, passing the night hours with little fanfare. But having Ellie there made it different. It was warmer, the space more lively with her and her possessions in it. The decision to have her move her stuff in should have unnerved him; his apartment may not have been a home, but it was his own space.

But Eric found that he got a small embarrassing amount of pleasure at seeing her stuff next to his. Her dresses hung up in his closet next to his jackets, her shoes- too many pairs of ballet flats and a few scattered pair of heels sat next to his, and her leggings were mixed in with his dark work pants.

He found that he liked her stuff there.

It gave her less chance to run away.

He thought for sure she'd split as soon as she realized how he was. He wasn't overly affectionate and overly sentimental. He didn't enjoy grand public displays of affection, and he didn't know how to be soft and romantic. She would leave, he knew. After she grew tired of him.

To his surprise, she hadn't. And she didn't show any signs of leaving.

She seemed to have infinite patience for him; she dealt with his crankiness with ease, and she curled next to him on the couch, slipping her head against his chest and sighing happily. She held his hand when they walked through the halls, and she whispered how much she had missed him when she saw him after work.

He'd never had anyone openly admit they missed him before, and it felt surprisingly nice to hear her say those words.

She softened his sharpness, but only around her. He still glared at the newest training class, even though he'd found himself volunteering to help make sure Four didn't fuck up this one. He still despised talking to most people, but it seemed to bother him just a little bit less now. And he still hated Four's hair with a burning passion.

But today, Ellie had made him spaghetti, and then pulled him into their bed, sleepily informing him that she couldn't wait until they both had a whole day off together. He'd nodded, laying his head down, listening to her heart below him.

She was pretty.

The prettiest person he'd ever met.

Her fingers brushed over his temples, and she held him close to her, sighing happily. She was falling asleep with him, just like she had for the past year.

Eric closed his eyes, silently thanking Four for getting that stupid haircut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting on my laptop, and the girl I wrote it for asked if I could please send her the second part. So I figured I'd post it.
> 
> Fair Warning- It's pretty much pure fluff and the tiniest bit of angst.
> 
> Also, sorry Four. You always wind up being slightly bananas in my universe.

Ellie looks pretty.

Her hair falls back over her shoulders, tumbling down to the middle of her back. It's longer now than when he first met her, and he likes it. Sometimes he pulls on it, like a little kid with a bad crush on the girl in front of him. He likes the way it tangles around his fingers, the way the she seems to tilt her head towards him the minute his hands find her long locks.

She's his, and no one else's, and Eric won't let anyone else ever touch her hair.

 

 

He can't find Ellie anywhere, and the panic that fills him is claustrophobic.

He hasn't spent a day apart from her in over a year. He's spent every night curled against her, and every day thinking about curling himself against her. He knows she'll be there, in their apartment, waiting for him to return to her.

Today he can't' find her. He storms through Dauntless on a rampage; he shoves a few people out of the way, he full on ignores the way Four's hair is now frizzy and fried like some sort of worn out dish sponge, and he nearly chokes Max when Max asks him if he has a minute.

"Ellie cut her finger. She's getting stitches now." His anger subsides when Max tells him, but he merely nods. He says a curt thank you, ignoring Max's amused look and he heads to the infirmary with the same sort of walk that he uses when he's hunting someone down. Shoulders back, head high, spine straight, his hands clenched into fists.

He finds her sitting in a chair while the nurse finishes up. The gash in her finger is red and angry, and it's marred with several black stitches. He frowns, and Ellie meets his eyes looking slightly embarrassed.

"I haven't cut myself in years." She tells him, and she looks relieved when he steps closer, his own fingers touching her cheeks.

He doesn't like when he feels this way; wild and out of control. He's not very familiar with the feeling, and it leaves him unsettled. But he smiles at her, more to calm himself down, and he only half listens as the nurse gives Ellie something to take for the pain, something to ward off infection, and some sort of cream.

His stomach hurts at the thought of her being hurt, and he finds himself very quiet for the rest of the day.

 

 

It's been almost a year since Four came to class looking like an idiot, and Eric has found himself oddly and unexpectedly content. Max has more or less left him alone and Four hasn't shaved anything into the sides of his hair in a long time.

Until today.

Eric was gleefully storming towards his office, ready to finish up his day so he can head home and eat dinner when he stops in his tracks. There is someone hovering near his office door, their shoulders slumped and their posture wholly defeated. Eric cocks his head to the side, dread rushing through his veins. That particular feeling has been long forgotten. It's been far too long since he's felt his stomach turn unpleasantly, but it all comes rushing back to him now.

He all but groans when Four lifts his head, his hair bleached to some terribly offensive shade of yellow.

"No." He snarls when he approaches, and he shakes his head furiously. "No Four. Go back, and have Ellie fix it. Right now."

Four just stares up at him, and a feeling of deva vu sweeps over Eric in one horrifying sudden moment.

 

 

"He and the girlfriend got in argument. He came in this afternoon, but I didn't do it. Gabi did it." Ellie tells him while they eat dinner. Eric takes a bite of his lasagna and tries to keep his composure. This was the most atrocious he'd seen Four's hair yet, but that wasn't saying much.

"But they're fine, right?" He takes a long drink of the wine at the table, and Ellie watches him carefully. She looks even prettier today; her smile is bright and her cheeks seem pink. Sometimes he looks at her and thinks there's no reason she should still be with him. He sees the way people watch them in the hallways, and while he knows damn well he deserves Ellie, it's the others that don't.

Ellie shrugs at him, and her nose crinkles. "I don't know. I left before I could hear the rest of the story." She takes a sip of her water, swirling the liquid around in the glass before she sets it down. "He looks terrible blonde."

Eric snorts.

He'll give Four till Monday to get his shit together before he breaks his door down and colors his hair back to normal himself.

 

 

It's not so much Max this time, as it is Jeanine.

Eric doesn't know what's worse. At the very least Max was mostly on Eric's side. The shared a common goal of keeping the city safe, and they both worked hard. Jeanine was downright indifferent. She didn't give a fuck who you were; you simply did what she asked or suffer the consequences.

Today she's decided she wants Eric to oversee a patrol squadron that's having a rough time accomplishing anything. She needs them trained to be more efficient; more lethal and less concerned with the business amongst the Amity fields they're overseeing.

Eric can feel his jaw tense, but he nods at her, resisting the urge to ask why he's personally being assigned this task. It's slightly beneath him, and he can think of several others that could easily fill the position. One now blonde moron in particular.

But her eyes narrow at him, cold and distant, and he can't but think of how much she reminds him of his mother.

 

 

Ellie's skin is warm and soft.

His hands trail over her side and she squirms, batting his hand away.

"Stop." But her voice is a giggle, only for him.

His lips find her neck and he rests his forehead against her hair. She's been quiet lately, slipping into his bed earlier than normal but she's also been working just as much as he has.

"I don't want to." He tells her, and his words are honest and rough. He nudges her, until she arches her back against him. Her ass presses against him, and he grins in triumph.

"On your knees." He says, low and warm. She willingly obliges, and he rises up behind her, brushing her hair off of her neck.

Sometimes, he just really wants her.

It's not that he doesn't like the sex they have.

There's nothing quite like the moment when he's finally inside her. He thinks about it a lot. How he's never really enjoyed sex with just one person for so long. How he would normally be bored out of his skull by now.

Eric just used to getting what he wants, how he wants it. Sometimes he wants to roughly shove her into his sheets, to clamp his hands on her, thrust deeply inside her while she mewls his name, and only his name, over and over. He knows he's not always as gentle as he should be. But she brings out something primal in him, something feral and wild and he has a hard time making sure her head doesn't bang into the headboard.

But he doesn't want to hurt her.

Quite the opposite in fact. That idea horrifies him. He knows he's much larger than her, and it would be easy for him to knock her off his bed or accidentally bruise her if he gripped too hard. So he tries; his chest aching with the effort to keep her his. He makes sure he kisses her forehead, her lips, her cheeks and her neck. He tries very hard to not fuck her, but to let her know that he cares about her on a level he's never quite known.

But today, between Four showing up with lime green pieces in his hair, and Jeanine all but sending him to Amity, fucking Amity, he just can't take it. He thrusts himself into her suddenly, and to his delight she arches back, groaning his name.

He's moving too quickly, his hips slamming against her, and he watches her spine arc and she wiggles, furiously seeking more friction.

"Eric." She moans, and for a moment he's worried she'll ask him to stop. This isn't their usual position; Ellie likes him on top of her, his eyes staring into hers. But now she pushes herself back against him, her fingers clawing at the sheets. "Like that." Her words are heavy with lust, and Eric's stomach tightens in warm delight.

He only wants her.

 

 

Amity is boring and the patrol squad is a hot mess.

Eric tugs at the collar of his jacket in annoyance. It's hot out here, and his heavy jacket was a stupid choice. He silently curses whoever designed the Dauntless uniforms. Anything would be better than what he's got on.

The men in front of him are trying to keep their eyes straight ahead.

They are all afraid of him, each one ducking their heads when he stomps by, and none of them will make eye contact. He should get some small delight from it, but today it bores him. This is the third day he's been out here, and it's becoming clear he'll be out here much longer than expected if they can't get their shit together.

The squad watches the Amity work in the field, and Eric is unsure why they need his help. They are nothing more than young soldiers, more interested in drinking their shifts away and playing a game of which amity girl would you fuck rather than keeping an eye on the fence.

He glares at all of them, anger pooling in his stomach. Jeanine must think he's gotten complacent, for there's no reason for him to be out here.

 

 

She looks different on Wednesday, and he can't figure out why.

She kisses him goodbye, her fingers entangled with him, and she just won't let him go.

He doesn't mind. No one's ever really wanted him around them just quite like this. Sure, girls had wanted him. Wanted him like some sort of challenge, some sort of prize if they could just win an ounce of his attention. But Ellie wants him in a whole different way. She takes a step closer to him, her head falling against his chest and he feels overly hot.

She might just love him in the same slippery and terrifying way he might just love her.

 

 

He gets a reprieve from Amity when they manage to go a whole week without jeering at any of the Amity in the fields, and instead he's asked to check on Four's class. The request comes from Max. He looks irritable and cranky, and Eric knows what he's thinking.

He saw Four this morning.

His hair was shaved on both sides, and the bottom length came into a point, like a very fancy, very yellow mullet.

Eric sighs and nods, heading down there before Max can really ask him anything about Four's current mental status.

 

 

The class isn't totally terrible.

It's an improvement over Four's last fiasco, and Eric finds that they work better when given smaller tasks. He watches them practice sparring with each other, and for the most part, they are competent. Only person falls unconscious, and only one person throws up.

He considers it a success until the girl he's helping, the one from Candor that's already cut her hair and pierced her lip, stares up at him with complete and utter adoration. He can see her brain working, processing the way he's standing beside her, his head tilted towards her. The way she'll think about this moment for the next few days, analyzing just what did he mean with the words- keep your arm up.

He glares icily, and turns his attention to the boy next to her. He can feel her disappointment at his departure, and while initiate affection isn't something he's unfamiliar with, it's not something he wants.

Four returns after lunch, and his mullet is gone but his hair is a weird reddish brown color and Eric closes his eyes.

"Thanks for watching them this morning." Four tells him, shoving his hands in his pocket. "I uh, just you I don't deal very well with…" He trails off as he stares at the class in front of him as though he's never seen them before.

For the first time in his life, Eric misses Tris.

 

 

There is a baby screaming at the table next to them, and Eric all but loses his mind.

The parents are trying hard to calm the baby down, but nothing works until they reluctantly hand him one of their tablets, and he happily slobbers all over the very expensive very high tech gadget. Eric glares at them, hating their guts more than anyone he's ever met. Including Four.

He and Ellie were supposed to be celebrating.

He couldn't quite remember what. He tried really hard to think if it was their anniversary. He couldn't even be sure they had one. Did she count the day he'd first talked to her? The first time she'd ever cut his hair? Their first kiss? The first time they'd slept together? He'd tried hard to remember what she wanted to celebrate, but he couldn't.

He catches her looking at him with a weird expression on her face.

"You ok?" he asks. He takes a bit of his steak and glances around the restaurant. This place is fancier than anywhere else, and it's only been open a few months. Someone must have decided Dauntless needed some class, because it appeared out of nowhere, and had real table cloths and food that wasn't served in bins.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She tells him very softly, and for a moment he finds it hard to swallow. She's pushing her food around her plate, and she finally looks up at him and smiles. Sort of. "This is really nice in here."

He can feel his whole body tense up, and he wonders if she knows he doesn't know why they are celebrating. He sets his fork and knife down, and they clank loudly in the now quiet restaurant.

"Sorry I don't know when our anniversary is. Or which one today is." He informs her. His words sound rough and rude, and he crosses his arms in annoyance. "I've been really busy and I don't know which day you picked."

Ellie looks at him like he's crazy. "What are you talking about? It's not our anniversary."

Oh.

He keeps his arms crossed.

"Are you sure." He raises an eyebrow, trying to play it off. Maybe she doesn't quite know either.

"Pretty sure." She takes a sip of the coke she's drinking, and Eric's eyes narrow suspiciously. Something is up, and he doesn't like it. Ellie looks to the side of him, and her eyes fall the empty table. "Our anniversary is next week. The day you asked me to move my stuff into your apartment."

She sounds disheartened, and he can't help but feel like a dick.

 

 

Everything makes sense to him a day later when there is a knock on his door.

Ellie is still showering, so he grumpily stomps over and flings the door open. He half expects it to be Four. He saw him and his red haired girlfriend yelling at each other in the pit a few days ago, so he's been waiting for the little weirdo to show up again.

But it's not him.

It's someone from the infirmary; their white uniform stark in the dark hallway. The girl squints at Eric, taking in his worn fitted t-shirt and his boxers. She blushes at the state of his undress, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"These are for Ellie. She forgot to pick them up today, and I'd thought I'd swing them by. It's important that she take one every day."

She hands him a white bottle and Eric nods curtly before muttering thanks. He slams the door shut and sets the bottle on the counter. He glances back at it and his whole body freezes when he spies the label.

Women's Prenatal Vitamins.

 

 

His mother smiles at him, the same sort of smile that you give someone who's just stepped in dog shit and tracked it all over your carpet.

"It's nice to see you, Eric." She takes a large sip of her wine, and Eric tries to smile in return.

Erudite wasn't his favorite place in the world, but it did feel warmly familiar to him. There was something comforting about the large glass buildings; sleek and shiny and solid. There was nothing hidden behind them except knowledge. It felt good to be back here, even if his dark uniform stood out harshly against the royal blues around him.

His mother had invited him for lunch, and since he could do whatever he wanted, he accepted. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to see her. She hadn't been the kindest mother to him. She doled out affection the same way she doled out anything else- sparingly. He can remember her patting his head once when he came home with his report card. Even straight As and a note of praise from his teacher wasn't enough to warrant much of a reaction from her.

She sits across from him and her stare is curious, but it always is.

She doesn't want to learn anything about him, she just wants to hear how he fucked up.

And he did.

Royally.

When Ellie had emerged from the shower, he'd silently handed her the bottle of vitamins. Her eyes had widened in horror, and he'd watched her lower lip tremble. He hadn't said anything. Because he couldn't.

He was in no way cut out to be anyone's father.

When his own father had passed away, at the age of twelve, Eric had been glad. He'd felt a sense of relief that the man was gone. No more barking lectures or disappointed glares. No more trying to meet impossible expectations. The relief had disappeared the moment his mother took over. She more than made up for his father with what she expected from Eric. It was never enough, and he was never enough.

He didn't know how to be anyone's father, and he certainly didn't want to be anyone's father.

And now, he sits across from this woman, watching her smirk at him because she knows. She can tell by the way he can't look at her and the way his eyes are downcast.

He's ruined the only good thing he's ever had in his life, and then he went and ruined it some more.

Ellie had started crying, really crying. Harder than the way she'd cried when Matthew had told her everything he'd ever hated about her. Eric could only swallow and try not to look at her. He couldn't stand the way her shoulders shook, or the way she looked miserable or the way she couldn't look at him.

It tore his inside apart; his intestines had twisted unpleasantly, and he bolted before she could say anything. He'd found himself running, running far and hard, still in his boxers until he'd reached the training room. He'd shrugged on the work out gear he kept stored in the lockers, and he'd punched at things until he was calm enough to go back.

Ellie hadn't been there, and he'd done nothing but stare at his e-mail until the one from his mother popped up.

"What did you do? Is it your little girlfriend?" She stares at him down her nose, and he clenches his jaw. Of course his mother wouldn't like Ellie. Ellie was too soft and sweet and would never be anything more than an amusement to his mother. "Did you cheat on her?"

He snaps his eyes to her and glares. "No, I didn't cheat on her."

His mother seems unimpressed. "Then what's wrong? You've been sitting here, looking miserable this entire lunch." Her blonde hair seems to shake as she talks, and he hates her so much. "Did you knock her up? I know you aren't that stupid."

When he averts her stare, his hands clenching into fists, she knows the answer.

"Oh."

 

 

She doesn't look pregnant.

In fact, she looks skinnier than ever, and her eyes look she's been crying for a very long time.

"Eric." She says softly, and he reacts violently.

"If you're going to leave just go now." He snarls the words at her, and for the first time he's mad. Really mad. But not at her. "Go." His words are rough and he turns away so she won't see that he's a terrible person who shouldn't so much as be near any babies, let alone having one of his own.

She moves silently, and her fingers find his. He leans his head back, his shoulders stretching unpleasantly and she looks up at him with a sudden burst of quiet affection.

"I'm not leaving you, Eric. I just want you to look at me." She tugs on his hand, her small fingers pulling on him and he reluctantly meets her stare. She still has the prettiest eyes he's ever seen, and she smiles up at him.

"I didn't…I didn't plan on this to happen. I wouldn't do that to you." She looks at him, and his stomach hurts bad enough that he might throw up. "I just don't want you to be mad at me."

Her voice wavers, cracking unpleasantly, and every wall he's put up between then in the past few hours crumbles. He reaches for her, crushing her small frame to him. He holds her tight against him, until he hears her sniffle and he then he holds her closer.

He's hers, and he's been hers for a long time, and now he'll just be hers forever.

 

 

His mother sends him an e-mail.

_Do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet?_

He squints at the e-mail with great disgust.

He may not know if his child is a boy or a girl yet, but he refuses to call the baby an it. He types back one word- NO and hits send without writing anything else.

He'll be back at Amity in a few hours, and lucky for him, the reception is shitty out there.

 

 

Ellie is curled against him, her head on his chest and her arm draped over his waist.

He's been watching her very carefully, every day. She still doesn't look pregnant, but she does sleep a lot. And she occasionally throws up. He's woken up a few times to the unpleasant sound, and he can't help the feeling of hot unwanted guilt that runs through him.

She looks paler than normal, but all she wants is him, in bed with her.

He doesn't mind though. He'd happily lie here with her. Sometimes she manages to stay awake, and he tries to make up for the fact that he doesn't know how to be a decent boyfriend, let alone father.

 

 

Four's mohawk looks ridiculous, but only because it's on Four.

He just doesn't have the nerve to pull it off, and he reminds Eric of a small rebellious ten year old whose parents won't let him stay up past nine pm. He stands next to the table Eric is eating at, glancing around the mess hall.

"There's a small problem." Four tells him, hands on his hips.

"Something other than your hair?" Eric snaps. Four doesn't react, he simply shakes his head, the floppy pieces bending under the mere stress of the movement.

"I lost an initiate." Four says, looking slightly stressed out. "I should have eighteen, and I only have seventeen."

"How long have they been missing?" Eric's voice sounds bored, and he stares at the hamburger in front of him. It's not entirely unusual for initiates to explore the compound, and sometimes they wander off for a minute of solitude.

"Three days."

Eric swears, and tries very hard not to stab Four with his fork. "Well than you better start looking." Eric can feel the annoyance rising in him, and he can already see Max's eye twitching at this little nugget of news.

 

 

Ellie is staring at herself in the mirror while she brushes her teeth, and Eric is staring at her.

Her belly is still very flat, and he doesn't quite know how far along she is.

"Did you want to go with me?" She asks him after she spits her toothpaste out of her mouth, and grimaces. He's watched her throw up a few times after brushing her teeth. "To the appointment?"

He nods, and it's how he ends up in a large doctor's office in Erudite. Since the baby is Eric's, Ellie's appointments are held with the best doctor's in Erudite. She sits perched atop of a bed that's next to a slew of monitors and a large machine. He shifts awkwardly in the small pink chair, trying to look like he's completely comfortable with the whole situation.

The technician comes in, along with several other nurses and a woman that stares Eric down as though she has no fear. He narrows his eyes at her, ignoring her stare and watches on the screen.

The baby, or what they tell him is the baby, is the size of a peanut. It doesn't look like a baby, and he certainly can't tell the gender what so ever. He half listens as the doctor drones on and on, only perking up when she mentions how the baby is the perfect blend of Ellie's DNA and his own.

He likes that.

The idea of the division and creation of new cells, taking the best parts of him and the best parts of Ellie to make one completely and utterly perfect baby.

He straightens his spine and finds himself watching Ellie stare at the screen.

A few years ago he never would have ever imagined himself here. He was probably dangling an initiate over the chasm, or belittling Four in front of the class. He certainly wasn't thinking about whether or not the baby would look like him or Ellie.

The rest of the appointment flies by, but all Eric focuses on is the tiny photo of the peanut that the tech handed him.

 

 

"Are you going to name the baby Erica?" Four asks him in complete seriousness. "If the baby is a girl, I mean."

Eric stares at Four, his stupid fucking hair shaved everywhere except the top, and pulled into the tiniest nub of a manbun. He's half tempted to cut it off with this scissors on his desk.

"No." He snarls.

Four reclines back in the seat in front of Eric's desk, and Eric can feel the beginning of a headache starting. Ellie was now six months pregnant, and though you could barely tell, it seemed to be all anyone in Dauntless could focus on. Surely they had better things to work on. Eric certainly did. He'd spent the last few months finishing up Four's class while four very zenly took a minute to find himself. He spent his free time with Ellie, reading a book about baby brain development and trying to convince her she wouldn't gag if she ate just a few more bites of kale.

He also spent a lot of time in bed with her, because all she wanted to do was him.

It had caught him off guard. It was like she possessed by some sort of demon, and the answer to saving her soul lie within his pants. He wasn't complaining, not by a long shot. But this morning he had to admit that he'd tried not to wake her up as he slipped out from beneath her. The moment she opened her eyes he knew she'd pounce on him.

"What about Erickle?" Four throws out, staring down the papers in his lap. He tips his chair back, and Eric can only hope he falls over.

Eric looks up at him, his face contorting in disgust. "That's not even a name."

"I wish I was having a baby." The words are out of Four's mouth and Eric's head snaps up in surprise.

"Why?" he asks.

Four shrugs. "It could be kinda cool."

Eric stares at him, wondering if his man bun is pulled too tight and he's losing circulation to his brain.

 

 

The kid that runs up to him is panicked, full on worry across his face as he sprints to Eric.

"You gotta go! It's Ellie! She's having your baby!" The kid is one of the newest members of the patrol squad. He's not really a kid. In reality he's only a few years younger than Eric, but he's new to the patrol. He's been very eager to prove himself, and he's been very worried about Eric missing the baby's birth. He has two kids himself, and he's keeping careful tabs on Eric.

It would be nice if Eric wasn't already on edge.

Panic washes over Eric, and the feeling is grossly unfair. He doesn't like to feel like this, and lately it's happening more and more. He worries about everything. How Ellie is feeling. How the baby is doing. Did she eat today? Is she still nauseated? Will she murder him in his sleep because his breathing is too loud and she can't sleep with it and why is their bedroom so damn noisy. Will he be there in time? Will Jeanine ever be happy with this pointless patrol? Why can't Four just get a normal fucking haircut?

But this time, the panic is justified.

The baby isn't due for another month, and his stomach sinks when he realizes he's at least an hour and a half away from Ellie.

 

 

The Erudite hospital is mostly glass, and every surface is cleanly polished.

His life was like this once.

Everything reflected off of him, but there wasn't much beneath it. His world was a controlled chaos, an orderly list of daily objectives that he mentally checked off. He'd liked it. Everything was neat and orderly, but none of it really mattered.

He nearly sprints through the hallway, his uniform jacket heavy and thick and his eyes searching wildly for someone to tell him where to go. He hadn't been here in a long time, and he'd certainly never been here in search of labor and delivery. He catches a glimpse of himself in the elevator doors. His looks wild and dangerous; the tattoos on his neck seem to stretch in his agitation, and he has an air of arrogance about him. Even in his worried moment, he's still Eric.

He finds someone, a woman who shoves her glasses up her nose and snootily informs him he needs to go to the third floor, and he all but shoves her out of the way. He takes the stairs because he's faster than the elevator, and he bursts onto the floor as though he's in the middle of battle. All his senses are firing and he's primed, adrenaline high enough to punch the first person who dare get in his way.

He's in luck, because he finds the same doctor that he met months ago walking out of a room, and she makes eye contact as the door shuts. She waves him over, and he impatiently listens while he fills him in on a few things.

He only listens to the important ones.

Blood, lots of blood.

The baby is ok.

Ellie is ok.

Tired.

Can't hold the baby just yet.

He swallows thickly, wishing in this moment that she would politely get the fuck out of his way, and she finally moves and he steps through the door. The room is dark and quiet, and it smells sterile. He tears through it until he reaches the bed, and there lies Ellie, all pale skin and matted hair, fast asleep.

 

 

Four pounds.

His daughter only weighs four pounds, but she has his eyes and Ellie's color of hair. He gets to hold her as long as he wants, as long as his sits shirtless, near the bassinet, so everything she's hooked up to won't unattach. The baby is awkwardly small for him to hold, but he does it anyway.

Today he sits for two hours, her tiny body on his chest. Her skin is wrinkly and pale, occasionally pinkening when he puts her down. He doesn't like when she turns pink, and the nurses smile patiently when he tells them that.

He likes the feel of her against his chest. She sometimes rests against his tattoos, her soft head buried into his inked skin and his hand covering her whole body. She makes soft snuffling noises, and she whole heartedly reminds him of Ellie when she sleeps.

His eyes burn when he holds her. It might be the buildup of tears he isn't quite willing to let fall in front of these nurses, and sometimes its exhaustion from running back and forth between Dauntless and Erudite. He can't help the way his chest feels tight every time he leaves the hospital. The pull the two of them have on him is surreal. He's never once thought that he would love anyone, but he's found himself utterly and desperately lost at the thought of leaving them behind each night.

He's terrified every time he enters Ellie's room. She spends a lot of time with the baby, but she still looks awfully tired and awfully pale. He listened patiently while the nurse explained the process of the blood transfusion she was given, and how she's here for another week just in case she needs another.

Ellie cries a lot, mostly into his chest and sometimes when she thinks he isn't looking. She sometimes says she's sorry, that she tried really hard to wait for him, and how she wishes she'd made it another four weeks. It doesn't matter to him. He just holds her close, her warm frame against his and he patiently waits until he can take them all home

 

 

He dangles the little shit off the fence, and the kid's eyes are wide as saucers when Eric yanks him back up.

"Keep your fucking mouth shut." He snarls. The initiate nods, and Eric glares at him one final time before stomping away. The kid is a mouthy little fuck from Candor, and he's done nothing but go up against both Four and Eric. However he picked the wrong topic to mutter under his breath about.

Eric was a better instructor before his spawn came along.

Eric had heard the words loud and clear, as though they were said right in front of him. He taught the dumb fuck a lesson, and he'll teach it to anyone else who dares to talk about him or his daughter.

He stops for a moment as Four meets his eyes and nods at him.

Things are different now, but Four's hair is finally back to normal.

 

 

His daughter is five months old, and she prefers to spend her time in his arms, chewing on the gauges in his ears. She holds his face in place with a chubby fist, squawking any time he moves his head. It's hard to look intimidating this way, but at least Ellie still thinks he looks tough.

He holds the baby carefully against his plain white shirt. He's learned his lesson quickly. It seems that any time he's held her before work she's decided to revisit her breakfast onto him. So he makes sure he never has anything more work worthy than a plain shirt on any time he's holding her.

Ellie takes the baby from him, and Eric tries not to grimace as she squeals, unhappy to be separated from the main man in her life.

He understands.

He has a rough time leaving in the mornings, and an even harder time letting anyone else near his family. Having both Ellie and the baby has only made him more territorial. The first few months were a blur of people who wanted to visit, and those that he grumpily let into the apartment. Max. His mother. Ellie's girlfriends who mostly stared wide eyed at the baby and sometimes at him. Four and Tris. Those two were awkward as ever. They both stood too close to each other and stared at Ellie and the baby until Eric cleared his throat and ushered them out.

Everyone seemed to know where he lived now, and he was over it. He wanted to move.

Desperately.

Dauntless had a small section of homes, real homes- not just over sized apartments, that were maybe ten minutes away from the compound. He started researching, and he pulled a few strings to get his name moved up on the waiting list.

The lady calls him on a Friday and says she'll have keys to him by that evening.

He relaxes, his shoulders feeling slightly lighter as he imagines their new home.

 

 

When he comes home on Tuesday, his mother is there.

He's taken back for a second at the sight of her. She's sitting on their brand new couch, in their new house, holding his daughter on her lap. She's bouncing her up and down, a slight smile on her normally stoic face at the small bursts of giggles that echo throughout the room.

"How old is she again?" She asks him, her grey eyes falling on his approaching form. He stares at her for a long second before he answers.

"Six months old."

His mother smooths the baby's hair to the side and he can't help put pick up on the sad smile that crosses her face. "She's very pretty. And I like her name."

The name had been Ellie's idea. Eric was fine to call her peanut, but Ellie had suggested Emma, and Eric hadn't put up any fight. He liked that all their names started with E, but he still referred to her as peanut most of the time.

"She's very little." His mother is staring at Emma intensely and Eric shrugs. She is tiny, but he isn't worried. She's a fierce little thing. "What will you do if she picks a faction other than Dauntless? What if she picks something like…" she pauses, and he can only assume she's mentally ranking the other factions until she decides which one she finds least favorable. "Abnegation. Or Amity."

Eric shrugs again. "I think I've got some time to worry about that."

He suddenly feels as though his skin as shrunk two sizes. He doesn't like to think about his peanut ever leaving him, but he knows that ultimately he will support whatever decision she makes. The thought is funny to him, and he huffs to himself as he makes his way to the kitchen.

Ellie kisses him hello, smile wide and happy as she prepares some sort of chicken and noodle dish.

He reaches around her, burying his nose in her neck. "Save me." He mutters and she giggles as her fingers slip under his collar.

But she's already saved him, more than she will ever know.

 

 

Emma turns eight months old before Eric realizes they should have another baby.

The thought comes to him in the middle of the night, and he sits up in bed, nearly knocking Ellie to the side. Emma shouldn't have to be an only child. He was an only child, and he'd spent his whole life wishing there was someone else to play with. He nudges Ellie and she sleepily opens her eyes at him.

"Is Emma up?" She sits up and looks desperate to crawl back under the covers. He shakes his head and stares at Ellie. She's just as small as she's always been, and she stares up at him curiously. "You ok, Eric?"

He nods and blurts his words out. "I think we should have another baby."

She stares at him, her hand dropping to the side and she finally squints a bit at the clock beside him. It's 1:15 in the morning. "Right now?"

Eric stares back at her, and he fidgets slightly. "Well not this exact second."

Ellie merely nods at him, and Eric can tell she's half asleep. She moves to lay down, and Eric swallows, reaching for her hand.

"I love you." He tells her, and he feels like someone has cracked open his chest and taken out a bunch of rambling broken sharp pieces. Ellie stares at him and he waits for a sarcastic reply.

Instead she moves towards him, brushes her hair out of her eyes and kisses him. "I know. I love you too, Eric. Now go back to sleep."


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swore I was done with this story, but I continued it with the idea still in my head just to see if I liked it. I decided to post it, though it's only been edited by meeeee. I still find this story to be adorable and hilarious, and I still picture Four this exact way, no matter what story.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! Happy Saturday ;) I'm trying to figure out if I'll continue it from this point, but we'll see!

Their first real fight starts because he's tired.

Really tired.

It's been a week since he'd had a proper night sleep, and seeing as how he was no longer eighteen, it was starting to get to him.

A week ago, Emma had decided she liked sleeping in their bed far better than her own. He would normally have refused the very idea. He liked his own space, he liked his own bed with just him and Ellie in it, and he liked their bed to be used by him and Ellie only. He rather enjoyed pushing Ellie deep into his mattress, watching the way her back arched and her head lolled back as he thrust into her, one hand holding onto her hair. He really enjoyed when he came to bed and found her with nothing on except for his bedsheets, and therefore he definitely preferred his bed to be a child free zone.

But it was all ruined one dark and stormy night, when Emma flat out refused to let go of him. Tiny hands balled into his shirt as she clung onto him, wailing anytime he put tried to put her down or hand her off. Up until that night, Emma had been a phenomenal sleeper. She seemed to enjoy her routine, and if their dinner got pushed back by so much as a half hour, she was falling asleep while they ate. But this night was different. It was rainy and it made Dauntless that much colder and that much darker, and it made her that much crankier.

He hadn't really minded before.

She'd only been in his life for nine months. It was hard to remember what he did before she came along, and sometimes it bothered him. He had to remind himself he was Eric; he was the Leader of Dauntless, he was scary and intimidating even if most days he was heading to bed with Ellie by nine thirty because he was exhausted.

It makes sense that their fight comes a week after Emma decided his bed was now hers all because of a fucking storm. Not only was he shoved out of the way, nearly falling off the mattress of his king sized bed, but he felt claustrophobic, even in the large room. Ellie liked to sleep as close to him as humanly possible, pressing herself nearly atop him before she was able to fall sleep. Emma slept on top of her and seemed to always end up migrating on his chest. It wasn't that he hated it, in fact- he sort of liked the way they both seemed to need him, especially in the darkest part of the night.

It was the fact that he couldn't exactly sleep like that.

Before them, he'd spent a lot of time alone. Ellie was the first woman to ever really sleep in his bed for longer than a few hours, and even that had been only because he'd been slowing losing his mind while attempting to fix Four's class. It had all worked out in the long run, though. He now had her, and he now had Emma, he just didn't have any sleep.

But today he's tired. Soul crushingly tired from waking up with a foot in his face, after being elbowed all night, and waking up every few hours to a barking sound. Emma had a cough, Ellie had a cough, and he was pretty sure he was about to have a cough because the those two had spent their past few nights sharing his pillow.

So he makes a decision, one he knows he'll probably soon regret, announcing it loudly for all to hear.

"She sleeps in her own room tonight."

He barks the words at Ellie, trying to ignore the way her eyes widen in surprise. He's rarely snapped at her, to be fair he's almost never had a reason to, but today he simply can't deal with it anymore. He's over tired, over worked and over not getting any sleep.

Of course, the minute he says the words, it's like he's reverted back to the big bad villain of Dauntless, the one Ellie never saw him as.

She stares at him with a vaguely stressed out expression on her face, her lips pressing together tightly.

"Eric, I don't know if she will," she says quietly, her shoulders creeping up a bit higher.

She's standing in the kitchen, barefoot and half dressed, holding a crying Emma, all while trying to make him pancakes. His stomach clenches at the sight her, managing both the mess on the stove and a wailing baby, but he ignores it, because he's about to fall asleep standing there.

"She will."

Ellie frowns at him, rocking Emma a bit in an attempt to soothe her, and she just has to sound as sweet as ever even through her exhaustion. "I know it hasn't been ideal, but I don't think she feels good. I really don't know if she'll sleep by herself. She's been…"

"She sleeps in her own room. This isn't up for discussion." Eric says the words harshly, noting the way this time Ellie flinches away from him, and he immediately feels like a piece of shit. Years ago he wouldn't have cared. He would have walked away and let Ellie deal with her own emotional reaction to him, but today he stops, and swallows heavily.

"Ellie," he starts to say, but she's already turned back to the stove with her head down, and even Emma seems to be giving him a dirty look from her shoulder. She waves a fist at him in protest, her tiny face turning red as she coughs loudly. "You know what, fine. I'll sleep on the couch. You two can sleep in the bed."

He leaves on that note, heavy boots stomping across the large kitchen until he can fling open his front door. He storms through it, getting no satisfaction when he can't bring himself to actually slam it shut, and it's not until he gets to his office does he realize he's forgotten almost everything he needed to bring with him.

 

Of course, today would be the day that Four sits before him looking more confused than ever.

"You want me to take the lead on the assignment? I'm flattered, really," Four says the words casually, leaning back in the office chair. "But have you thought about asking someone else?"

Eric stares at him, pure hatred running through every single nerve in his body further by his shitty morning. He must have been disillusioned to have thought they'd made progress. Four had looked relatively normal, well- as normal as Four could, and he hadn't done anything unreasonably stupid lately. His hair was a normal color, and though still stupid looking, there was nothing shaved into it nor was it parted weird. Eric had even heard a delightful rumor that Four had been banned from setting foot in the salon unless another adult was with him.

"No, I have not thought about asking someone else to help with this considering this is your job. The one you chose."

He barks the words, watching as Four tilts his oversized head to the side as though he's thinking very hard.

"Or maybe it would go better if I had an assistant?" He suggests cheerfully, and Eric counts to fifty seven before he can answer.

"It's your own training class. You chose to take the position. I'm not giving you an assistant, I'm asking you if you're prepared before we have a repeat of your last fiasco. I won't be available to bail you out this time."

He's not sure why he's even trying to make sure Four is prepared. This could be perceived as trying to help him, an idea that Eric loathes. But he's taken over Max's position, bidding him a fond farewell as Max headed into some great beyond also known as the biggest secret in Dauntless. The retired living area where anyone who once held an important position could still be reached if need be. It had come after someone, probably Max, reasoned that the elderly still held value and that jumping into the chasm was tacky.

Before he had handed Eric total control of Dauntless, Max had given him a few books that Eric was sure he'd never read, and then he'd warned him with a dull threat to play nicely.

He'd cautioned Eric that fear only went so far and he was sort of right. In a shocking turn of events, people seemed to respect Eric even more now that he had Ellie and a baby. It was like they didn't totally think he was this terrible monster that stalked the halls looking for his next victim. In some ways, they were right. He wasn't stalking any halls, only because he didn't have any time. But that didn't mean he'd gone soft; he'd still gleefully hang people over the chasm and he'd still threaten them within an inch of their lives if they didn't listen to him.

He just did it less often.

But he'd taken Max's words with a grain of salt, and therefore he'd graciously called Four into his office, listening to the little weirdo for no more than two minutes before he'd reminded him he had a class to teach very soon and not to fuck it up. Four had looked confused, his eyebrows wrinkling together until Eric had very slowly said the words 'training class.'

"Yeah, I'm ready. Sure," Four shrugs, and his gaze falls to the picture on Eric's desk. He studies the photo carefully, his eyes fixed on Ellie holding Emma. It was taken a few months ago. Ellie was smiling sweetly, her eyes wide and bright, and Emma's toothless grin was blindingly happy. It made Eric's chest tighten when he remembers they were both looking up at him when he took the photo. He'd found a way to print it out, then brought it to work with him, placing it where he could see it.

And apparently so could Four.

"How old is she now? Three?"

Four is still staring at the photo, his blue eyes narrowed, and Eric sighs heavily.

"She's nine months old," Eric answers irritably, and he closes his eyes for a moment. He can already tell this is going to be a long initiation and it hadn't even fucking started yet. "You know what? We're done here. You can get out of my office. You'll train the class, and they'll do well. You won't lose anyone, no one wanders off and no one dies. Understood?"

Four nods, standing up and leaving, but not before he runs his hands through his hair, effectively making it look noticeably worse. "No promises on the whole, no one dies thing. I'll do my best. And you'll think about the assistant thing, right?"

"No," Eric snaps, but Four is already gone, heading somewhere Eric doesn't care to know.

 

He sleeps on the couch.

To top of his spectacularly shitty day, no one in his family is really talking to him. Ellie had made him dinner and set it down on the table, quietly telling him she and Emma already ate. She didn't offer to sit with him; in fact, it almost seemed like she was ignoring him which was weird, because no one ever ignored him. She then gave Emma a quick bath in the sink while he ate, and the two of them went to bed way earlier than normal.

Without saying goodnight to him.

Eric screws his eyes shut, trying to squash the unpleasant burning in his chest when he thinks about that. It wasn't that he was wrong; he knew he needed sleep and Ellie had to understand that, but he felt like no one did. Lately, his life was all consuming, and now that he was lying on his living room couch, he had plenty of time to contemplate it.

Especially the look on Ellie's face.

She looked wounded, like he'd purposely been mean to her just for fun, and jokes on her- she should have known he was mean.

But it wasn't true. At least not entirely.

At one point in time, he'd rather enjoyed hurting people. It wasn't something that he was proud of, but he'd gotten a weird satisfaction out of watching others crack. Especially the initiates. He wanted to push them to their breaking point to see if they could handle it, because outside of Dauntless, there were no second chances. But not Ellie, he'd never wanted to hurt her; not now or not ever.

But he had to admit that as he lie there, he felt like he was kind of cracking, the real Eric peeling away to reveal someone who was a few months away from not recognizing himself. It made him swallow heavily, his eyes still clenched shut, along with his fists.

He stays like that for a long time, until he realizes he's falling asleep. The apartment is unnaturally quiet and he almost wishes Ellie or Emma would start coughing, just so he had a reason to go check on them. There was no way he was going in there just because. It would completely ruin the decision that he'd made, and now he's certainly not backing down. They can enjoy sleeping alone because he's not moving.

At least not until he gets a good night's sleep.

 

When Eric opens his eyes in the morning, the apartment still quiet and far too dark, he's surprised to find himself not alone. There, covering most of his chest, is Ellie. Her arms are thrown over his torso, her small frame somehow wedged in between him and the couch, her pretty hair spilling all over the place.

She shifts slightly, her fingers digging into his chest as he moves to sit up.

"Eric," she says his name groggily, sitting up herself until she can look at him. She looks just as pretty as she always had, and he shakes his head to clear his mind.

"Where's Emma?" he ask, sounding much grouchier than he'd intended.

Ellie smiles up at him, her blue eyes fixed on his and he notices she looks a little delirious. "She's in her own room. I came out here to get you, but you were already asleep. You mumbled something about Four and turned back over."

Eric frowns, but it doesn't last long. Ellie reaches for him, settling herself back against his chest and looping her fingers around his neck. "Will you come back to bed now? Please?"

He nods without question, trying to forget that he was the one who made such a dumb decision. He stands up with his arms still around her, easily carrying her back to bed, collapsing into it without a second thought as she curls herself around him just like she always has.

 

It only takes a week for Four to wind up back in his office.

Up until that moment, things had been relatively back to normal. Everyone had stopped coughing, Emma had returned to sleeping in the crib, and Ellie had kissed him goodbye like her life depended on it. He had finally gotten to sleep through the night, the office secretary cowered when he stalked by her, and his new assistant seemed terrified by the mere sight of him.

Life in Dauntless was moving along like it always had.

He had to admit that after a rough week, he was pleased with how things were going. His last few days had gone smoothly as his list of factional renovations was slowly coming to an end. They had been prepping for the arrival of the new initiates, and while the initiation was just another check on Eric's to do list, he still was entirely responsible for it.

He'd made a few necessary improvements to the neglected areas that Max had said were fine. The beds had remade into bunk beds with three beds, and then rearranged to accommodate the anticipated higher number of new initiates. The showers were scrubbed clean from the old blood and tears from the last class, and the ranking board in the dormitory was taken down and replaced with a clean, flashier version. The dining hall had added tables, a few wonky lanterns had been replaced with an updated solar version, and someone had even scrubbed out a lingering blood stain from in front of the infirmary.

He'd taken a leisurely stroll to the training room, giving it a quick walk through to make sure there was nothing else that Four needed or could possibly ask for.

He'd had given Eric a list of things that he had wanted to upgrade, and Eric had reluctantly okayed most of them. Even he would admit that they needed new punching bags, that they should fix the water fountain so the water actually worked and no one had to put their entire mouth on it, and the cracked board for rankings was replaced with something a little more high tech.

He'd even been pleased when he didn't have to show Four how to turn it on.

He'd been even more pleased to discover that everything was, for once, on schedule. A day earlier even.

But now the reappearance of their lead trainer is worrisome. Eric pretends to be positive, only mentally telling him to go fuck off rather than saying it out loud as soon as he steps in the door. He ignores Four as he tries to play it cool, casually leaning against the office wall and flipping through the pages and pages of training papers he's supposed to fill out, acting like nothing is wrong.

But Eric knows otherwise.

He watches as Four gets to the last page, panic crossing his face when he saw the number of initiates this year. Before Max had left, he'd made the brave and exciting decision to up the number of members that they kept. His logic, appearing now that he was leaving, seemed brilliant and useful for once. More soldiers meant better protection, shorter shifts for already over worked guards, more coverage for areas that desperately needed it.

Max had even mentioned this was something he'd been thinking about for years and Eric had to admit could be beneficial. They could use the extra help around Dauntless, and sure, it might be nice to not place so much pressure on these brand new, fledgling members who weren't really as ready as they pretended to be. And while it meant a much larger and hectic training class, it would be worthwhile to have such a larger army. Even better, it would greatly reduce the amount of factionless that were actual functioning members of society.

But Eric knew it would come at a price

Because there was no way in hell that Four, the shifty eyed and currently pale and sweaty trainer could possibly be responsible for the ninety-seven initiates that had chosen to join Dauntless.

"This is…a lot," he tells Eric, and he furrows his brows together. "It's uh…really a lot of people to keep track of."

"It's not that many," Eric snaps, knowing full well it's at least triple the amount Four might normally have. He glances up from his paperwork, inwardly cringing when he notices that Four's hair seems fluffier than normal. It could stem from the fact that he's been gripping it out of frustration at the thought of the large amount of initiates, or maybe he'd combed it that way on purpose.

Annoyance sets in when he realizes it was probably the latter.

"You'll be fine," Eric barks, ignoring the pulsing pain starting up behind his eye. "Put them in groups, instruct them, and move on with your day. It isn't rocket science."

"Did you ever think about the assistant thing?" Four stares at him, and Eric has the urge to punch him in the face. "Because if not, they'll need to wear name tags. There's no way I can keep them all straight. And how many groups should I put them in?"

He looks stressed out now, even more so when Eric shoos him from his office, yelling at him to learn how to count.

He sits down at his desk, swearing when he realizes Four might actually be in over his head this time around.

 

The initiation starts a few hours later.

Eric had watched them jump with vested interest from a computer screen. He hadn't bothered to greet them on the roof this time. It was hot out and his hair was looking rather sharp today, so he'd sent Harrison outside to stand in the sun and corral them into leaping off the ledge.

It took long, like almost three cups off coffee long, before Harrison returned, red and sweaty, and told him they were in Four's hands now.

It was a scary thought, one that made Eric shudder, but that also could have been the three cups of coffee.

He'd left the office with a smile, informing his secretary he'd be back and to hold his calls. She still seemed terrified of him, and he felt a spark of satisfaction at that little fact. He decides to take the stairs a few floors down, and he's followed out by Harrison, until they stand together on an alcove, watching the initiates as they file through in an excited manner. The sheer amount of them makes Eric smirk, because they seem to pour of the tunnel in an endless stream, pushing and shoving each other as they take in the sights before them.

He watches as they walk along in large groups, wide eyed and ecstatic, drunk on adrenaline as they notice the dizzyingly high glass ceilings over the pit, the rocky walls and the sharply terrifying metal staircases.

He watches them follow after Four, his hair the most normal Eric had seen it in a long time, as he guides them to their overcrowded sleeping area, his shoulders slumping as trudges along and he throws one pained, dark expression up at Eric.

 

He takes a nap at his desk.

Seeing as how he inherited Max's position, he also inherited his office, his assistant who he quickly replaced with someone who actually knew how to use a computer, and his much more luxurious office chair.

He now realizes that this is how Max must have spent his days, because it was far too easy for him to lean back, close his eyes for just a brief second, think of how nice it would be when Four failed miserably with all ninety of his initiates. It wouldn't be long before he could put another trainer in his place, and he felt himself grin when he thought how wonderful that would feel. Maybe he'd even ask Tris to take over. She couldn't still be enjoying working in the control room after all this time. She'd probably be thrilled to take on a new job and -

"What are you doing?"

Tori's squawk breaks Eric's malicious dreaming and his eyes fly open to see her standing there, hands on her hips.

"Were you sleeping?" She asks him, her voice dripping with accusation. "Because Four's class got locked outside and he lost his keycard. They've been out there for three hours. Tris sent an alert saying that his class was missing from the training room and now the whole control room has bets on how long before he figures out a way back in."

"Not my problem," Eric sneers at her, closing his eyes again and waving her off. "You can go save him if you'd like. Or just let him wait it out."

"Me?" Tori exclaims, and Eric doesn't bother to open his eyes.

"I'm busy," he grins, grinning even wider when he hears his office door slam as Tori leaves, probably to go save Four. He returns to taking his nap, realizing his dreams are slowly becoming a reality.

Maybe taking over did have his perks.

 

On the fourth day of initiation Eric swears so loudly that his secretary lets out a shriek herself, nearly falling out of her chair in fear. He storms past her without even looking at her, because he can't, he just can't right now.

From the comfort of his office, he'd watched Four show up to class that day, greeting his class with a strange tropical accent, the front of his hair slicked straight up then combed over so it came crashing over like a wave. His shirt, a brightly colored tropical monstrosity, was unfortunately unbuttoned far enough that he might as well have skipped it all together.

He was also barefoot.

"Aloha initiates. Time to ride the wave through your first phase of initiation."

"Fuck, fuck fuck." Eric swore, as Four's words repeat over and over in his brain and he launches his tablet at the wall.

It seems like forever until he reaches the elevators, and he feels sick when he realizes he's not sure if he can stop Four's downward spiral before it starts.

 

He can't.

Four pretends not to know him, staring blankly as Eric storms through the training class with a rage filled look on his face. The initiates gape at him as a few whisper that he is Eric, the Eric they've heard about. He can only imagine what Four's told them, because quite a few step away from him, and at least one girl looks like she might start crying when he walks by her.

"What are you doing?"

He hisses the words at Four. He comes to a halt right beside him, glaring at the class something fierce as they stare at him, trying hard to not to grab Four by the sides of his shirt. After all, Four hadn't really done anything except show up looking like he's been watching a little too much Hawaii Five 0.

"Get back to work," Eric snarls at the class, pleased when they immediately resume their stances, preparing to practice fighting each other. They look good from what he can see- proper stances, proper arm positioning, proper fighting etiquette. It'll be a proper shame if they can't actually fight.

"Can I help you?" Four asks him politely, seemingly strangely normal. He's lost the accent, and he tilts his head to the side, smiling widely. "We were just about to start if you'd like to stay and observe. They're scheduled to fight for about four hours."

He says the last part cheekily, knowing full well that Eric would rather die than be forced to hang out with him all day, and Eric feels his lips curl up.

"Have Ellie fix your hair," he snaps, turning on his heel to stalk away.

It kills him, absolutely burns at his guts, that there's nothing in the handbook that says he can demote Four just because he looks stupid.

 

On the eighth day of initiation, Four looks normal but Emma gets sent home from daycare.

It hurt Eric to even have her there.

It had been a strange day when Ellie told him she wanted to get back to work. His first thought was that Ellie should stay home. He could provide for the two of them, and there was no reason for her to work. He'd then decided that seemed a little too controlling, so he decided he'd hire a personal nanny.

There was no way his daughter would be subject to the general public of Dauntless, let alone their offspring. Eric had seen the kids that got dropped off there; nothing but brats with runny noses, red faces, screaming meltdowns over crackers shaped into blob-like animals. They were wild and obnoxious and nothing like his daughter. He'd never allow her to be influenced by such behaviors, especially not when she'd always been so perfect.

Ellie had tried to tell him otherwise- that she'd be fine, and that socializing would do her some good. He'd balked at her, until she pointed out that she needed a change of scenery and she wanted to go back to the salon and that meant someone had to watch their daughter and they didn't have a lot of time.

She reminded him that he hadn't been stuck at home alone with Emma for months, nursing the baby on demand and working hard to set a sleep schedule. She pointed out that she hadn't really seen her friends in a while except for the times she could call them when Emma napped, and sometimes she didn't even set foot outside their apartment for days at a time. Emma consumed all of her time, and while she loved her unconditionally, she needed to be Ellie again.

He'd felt wildly and strangely hurt. His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest as he grew defensive because he had thought everything was fine. That he'd been plenty of help to her, and he'd made sure she was well taken care off, that both of them were.

He had taken a whole month off to be home with her when they first came back from Erudite. He may have forgotten that during that first month Emma had done nothing but sleep and eat and fall asleep on him and only him. Eric had been amazed at how easy being a parent was, how well they were handling this considering he never once wanted to be a father, and even Ellie had managed to look pretty and clean and sort of well rested. Hell, she'd even been the one to pull him on top of her the night after he went back to work, whispering that she missed him, really missed him, and how handsome he looked in his uniform.

He had thought things were going well, really well.

But before he could blink his eyes, Emma was suddenly a few months older, and he had started to come home to find Ellie looking a little run down. A little desperate as she wiped baby spit out of her hair, or tiredly mashed up baby food for another meal. He'd caught her starting to run pointless errands the minute he set food in the door, dashing off for things like baby shampoo and bobby pins, even going as far as to spend an hour talking about split ends on the phone with a friend while he and Emma watched a show about unsolved mysteries.

He understood why she might need a break, though it felt like he was blindsided. It explained why after he'd decided they were doing so well that they should have another baby, that Ellie had become fairly quiet. Two days later, he found her looking exhausted and pale. She had hastily asked him to watch Emma so she could take a shower. She'd then mumbled something about teething, handing him the baby and a frozen chew ring and told him 'good luck' before running to the bathroom.

Two hours later, he found her asleep in their bed, her hair still wet.

The next morning, she'd made him coffee, and almost sheepishly told him that she didn't just want to go back to work, that she needed to go back. The salon needed help, she missed her clients, and most important of all, she wanted to wear clothes that weren't covered in baby vomit.

And that she'd restarted her birth control.

He got it. She had a purpose in life, the same way he did, and it was one that didn't involve only being a mother. So he'd agreed readily, for he would never want her to be unhappy. Her smile of relief had bothered him, because it meant she thought he'd say no, but that worry vanished when she dressed for work a few days later, and he'd frozen in his tracks.

She looked like his Ellie; the one routinely cut his hair before he even realized how pretty she was, the one who'd been forced to trim Four's hair on a routine basis into whatever stupid style he'd picked out from the children's haircut book, the one who'd made him feel hot and stupid when he signed his name. She looked like the Ellie who he'd waited an hour for, staring at her while she cut someone else's hair and wanting desperately to kick that person in the face for taking up too much of Ellie's time.

Standing before him, dressed up and ready, she looked pretty; happy and normal, and completely ready to interact with someone other than an infant.

He was thrilled for her.

He couldn't stop staring at her, thinking just how beautiful she looked as they left for work together, her sudden decision now seeming like such a good move for their family. He and Ellie were perfect together, there was no doubt. They were strong, two hard working Dauntless members raising a child to be the best she could, knocking out the days one a time.

The only downside to the whole thing was it meant he hadn't had time to find a nanny.

So, he'd sucked it up, allowing Ellie to drop her off at the daycare center, with strict instructions on how to take care of her. It should have been fine. His child would be kept completely separate from the others; she'd be fed on the schedule she liked, with the food and milk he and Ellie provided and nothing else. He'd even gone as far to make them promise she'd nap on the same schedule she had at home. Nothing would interrupt her routine, and their life would continue to go according to plan.

For the most part, it went off without a hitch. The only complication occurred when he discovered that Emma did not in fact have his last name, despite being list on her birth certificate as the father. He'd argued one day with a daycare worker named Ginger, nearly losing his mind when she told him only Ellie could sign Emma out, because she hadn't put Eric's name down as someone who could pick her up. She'd then risked her own life by snottily informing Eric that since they weren't married, he'd need his girlfriend's written permission to even see her.

She'd been lucky that he was feeling kind, generous even, and he'd only reassigned her to work on the receiving docks for the next year. Ginger hadn't appreciated that at all, but he wasn't going to be told he couldn't pick up his own child, especially not by someone pointing out that it was because he wasn't married.

He was the Leader of Dauntless, and if he wanted to live with Ellie without being married- until the very day he died -then he would. Ellie had never once brought up the subject so he assumed she was fine with it. He knew his name was on the records as Emma's father, and hell, Emma even looked enough like him that anyone would know she was daughter, so he wasn't going to allow some dingbat to tell him otherwise.

Luckily, it had been smooth sailing since then.

Emma was exclusively watched over by a lone caregiver, and Eric took great pains to make sure Ginger would never come within a hundred feet of his child ever again.

But today, while sitting in a meeting with the newest leaders and trying to out why Amity had completely neglected to take any food to Abnegation, the call had come in that his daughter needed to be picked up, right now.

The woman went on to explain that not only did she have a fever, but she was miserable, and hadn't stopped crying since Ellie dropped her off.

"You'll have to excuse me," Eric had muttered, slamming his phone down and instructing Tori to take over. She'd looked at him curiously, but he waved her off, growling that he'd be back without explaining why.

As he stormed through the hallways, his mind raced with questions, and he felt a flare of guilt when he wondered why they had bothered to call him and not Ellie. He realized she must have missed the call, and he quickly came up a plan on how to deal with this. It was simple- pick up Emma, find Ellie, drop Emma off with Ellie, and return to his meeting, fix Amity's problems, check in on Four and make sure he was even in Dauntless, finish up his paperwork, then head home for dinner.

They'd all go to bed early and be fine by morning.

His plan started to fall apart the minute he saw Emma.

The woman on the phone had been right, because she was clearly not feeling well at all. Her face was red, her eyes were glazed over, her hair was sweaty and stuck to the side of her head in a way that reminded him of Four's comb over phase. The she wailed, really wailed, when he picked her up, until she coughed hard enough that he thought she might throw up on him.

"We think she's got a little bug. It's best if you keep her home until she's fever free for twenty-four hours." The woman kindly handled him a small box with a dropper, telling him she'd given her something to help with the fever an hour ago. "You can give her this again in five hours. Make sure she stays hydrated. We hope you feel better, Emma!"

She chirped the last part brightly, as if Emma understood what she was saying, and ignoring the way Eric was still standing there, his daughter screaming in his ear at an ungodly level. He counted to ten, adjusted Emma on his side and smirked in great triumph when she quieted down a tiny bit and dug her little nails into his jacket. She seemed miraculously better just from him holding her. Five hours, his ass. Surely, she wouldn't be sick for that long.

He sneered at the woman, not even bothering to mutter a thanks as he and Emma stomped off, heading to find Ellie.

 

He easily finds Ellie, but not the Ellie he's looking for.

"Eric, I can't take her right now. I'm so sorry. Could you just take her home and let me finish up here?"

Ellie whispers the words at him, and Eric feels his stomach sink and she neatly paints a bright purple color on the client in front of her. Emma might have stopped screaming, and she might have looked less red and sweaty and was no longer sharing the same hairstyle as Four, but she now had a death grip on Eric's ear, and she was growing antsy as he stood beside Ellie and snappily pleaded for her to take Emma home.

"If she has a bug she just needs to rest. Take her home and relax for a little bit." Ellie isn't focused on him at all. His annoyance grows when she continues to reach for the foils, neatly placing one under a section of hair.

"Emma, hold on," Eric grunts, and it was clear that she was becoming even more impatient. He swallows down the wave of pain when she yanks on the gauge in his earlobe and he swears he can feel it tear. A second passes, and he can almost feel the blood trickling out, and he's certain it's torn.

"Ellie…" he'd hissed, now not so quietly, watching her paint something white down the foil, then neatly folding it up into a rectangle as he slowly bled to death. "Ellie, you need to help me. I have a meeting that I left because they couldn't get ahold of you. Amity hasn't sent any fucking food to Abnegation in a week and I've got people demanding I solve this problem, yesterday. I can't take Emma back there."

The tone of words might have normally made someone else cave in, maybe even cry or walk out of Dauntless altogether, but Ellie stood her ground, shaking her head slightly.

"Eric, she's got a head full of lightener on her. I can't just leave. It'll snap off before I can get back here to finish it and there's no one else that can take her right now. Emma can't stay here if she's sick. But you can handle her, I promise."

He blinks.

Ellie didn't tell him no to a lot of thing, hell- no one really did. She was always making his life easier, somehow making his days smoother and less hectic, all because she loved him like no one else had.

But here she was, suggesting he take Emma home to watch over her as if he had nothing else to do today.

"If they gave her a pain reliver she'll probably fall sleep soon. Take her home, undress her, and watch something on the tv. I'll come home after I finish up here. Please, I know you can do this."

She made it sound so easy, and it would be, if he didn't have nine thousand other things he needed to accomplish by the end of the day.

"Ellie…" he says loudly, ready to explain the brilliant and logical reason as to why he can't be the one to take her home, when his phone beeps. He glances at it, swearing loudly when he reads the message from Four. "I have to go. One of the initiates just proposed to Four and he doesn't know what to do."

"That's the last thing that man needs," Ellie answers, her eyes still on her client. He watches her repeat the process over and over, finishing up once of the five sections of hair she's working on. Her work is precise and neat, perfectly spaced and sort of aesthetically pleasing to look at.

"Whatever happened to him and Tris? I thought they were madly in love with each other? Didn't they even have the same haircut for a while?" It's her clients turn to pipe up, and Eric swears even loudly when he reads that Four accepted the proposal and is just checking to make sure it's within guidelines. Four then immediately sends another text, telling Eric that he'll make sure to send out announcements to all the other leaders and for Eric not to bother checking on anything.

"IT'S NOT ALLOWED, FOUR," Eric roars at the text on his phone, and this time, Emma decides she's had enough.

She shrieks like a velociraptor, causing everyone in the salon to jump and Ellie to turn to him with wide eyes. Eric swears as Emma pulls on his earlobe again, and this time, he sees stars as a wave of pain washes over him.

"Eric, will you please take her home," she urges, and she finally puts her brush down. She discards her gloves and takes him by the elbow, ignoring his bloody ear completely, and he realizes his tiny Ellie isn't stopping to help him, she's stopping to escorting him out of the salon. "Look, I know you have a lot to do, but you promised me it was okay to go back to work. And I just have to finish this application. I'll try to find someone to help wash her and dry her. Just take Emma home for an hour. Then I'll be home. Please."

He stares down at her, noticing that her hair is freshly washed and shiny, her nail polish has been neatly reapplied, and she's smiling, but it doesn't quite make it all the way to her eyes. In fact, she looks a little like she might cry, and if there's anything he's learned, it's that he absolutely cannot stand to see her cry. He suddenly feels guilty for coming down here, as if Ellie hadn't spent the past nine months of her life catering to everyone but herself and he can't even give her a few days back at her old job without demanding she go home.

It hits him right then and there that while totally different than what he does, her job is no less of any importance than his is, even if it meant that Four's relatives would be stuck eating grass for another day.

"You know what…" he says, pausing to step closer to her, and she blinks a few times. She immediately reaches to wrap her arms around his waist, and her head falls to his chest, resting against the rough fabric of his jacket, and one hand on Emma. They stand like that for a moment, the same way they did when he found out she was pregnant, and he suddenly wants to drag her home and lie down with her. More for his own selfish reasoning than anything, or maybe to mumble an awkward apology while she lies beside him.

But he can't, because she has work to do, and he has a baby to take home.

"Ellie," He swallows heavily, and digs his fingers into her side. "We'll be fine. You…you take your time. Finish up your work day. I'll see you when you're home."

She lifts her head to look up at him, and this time her smiles is bright.

 

He and Emma survive.

His apartment is cold and dark, and Emma immediately quiets down the minute he walks through the door. He sets her down on the coffee table, undresses her down to her diaper, then he strips down to his boxer briefs and flops the two of them down onto the couch. He turns on the TV to their favorite show about serial killers, and he selects one of the few they haven't watched before, settling back against the cushions with her on his chest, waiting for her to stop pulling on his bloodied ear and wailing.

It works.

Emma finally seems happy, settling down when the opening credits come on. She clearly finds this much more satisfactory than being at daycare, because she babbles away, the high pitched baby talk that sounds like a foreign language for a good fifteen minutes before she passes out on him, one arm flung out across his chest and the other on her stomach.

His own eyes close when they begin to interview the serial killer's neighbor, and he dreams of Four, appearing to babysit with violet colored hair and a faceless fiancé with a bloody ear.

 

It takes a day but Abnegation gets their food.

Johanna apologizes profusely, kindly offering up multiple promises that it won't happen again all while taking in Eric's office with great curiosity. Seems there had been a miscommunication, and she hadn't even known that a faction was missing their delivery until a few days ago. She'd sent extra food to them, hoping to smooth it all over, then personally came to Dauntless to apologize.

He could tell she felt terrible, but he would have believed it more were she not smiling smugly at the child he was holding.

This time it wasn't Emma who was sick, but the lone daycare worker who looked after Emma who'd probably come down with whatever Emma had. Ellie had suggested they just risk dropping her off anyway, promising him that Emma wouldn't be traumatized by interacting with the other kids, but he'd refused to take her there and instead brought her to work with him.

So far, he felt pretty pleased with how well behaved she was. She drank her sippy cup while he worked on some reports and he attempted to drink his coffee, she flung her mushy, chewable baby puffs all over his desk, shrieking anytime he moved them off his keyboard, and she laughed when he yelled at Four for even thinking he could marry his initiate or take time off for a honeymoon when his training class was in full swing.

She'd even sat still when Johanna had come in, only whining when Eric stood up to greet her. It should have felt all sorts of embarrassing to be conducting this meeting while holding her, like maybe his life wasn't as put together as everyone thought, but Eric suddenly didn't give a fuck.

He could still sneer at Johanna while holding his child.

"She's very cute," Johanna comments when the conversation reaches a lull. She smiles again, suddenly bending forward to touch Emma's fingers and ignoring his death stare.

Emma smiles, and Eric feels a rush of annoyance when Johanna reaches for her, and Emma willingly leans into her. She happily giggles when Johanna struggles to take her from Eric, resulting in a tug of war, and he only reluctantly lets go when Johanna motions to the coffee on his desk.

"Drink it before it gets cold," she kindly offers, and he has no choice but to take a seat, reaching for the cup on his desk. He watches her like a hawk as she easily wanders around his office, showing Emma all the awards on his walls.

"You don't have to do that. She was fine with me," Eric snarls, still not entirely sure Johanna won't try to run out the door with his child. He can just see her taking her to Amity, raising her amongst the morons in the wild and ruining her brain with their Amity bullshit.

He can also tell that she's picked up on his unease, because she finally sits down with Emma on his lap, smiling at him like he's stupid.

"You know, she looks just like you," Johanna tells him, smoothing down the back of Emma's hair.

Ellie had just pointed out the other day that her hair was starting to curl up on the bottom, right after she'd given her a bath. Eric had smiled in response, only paying attention when Ellie snipped a few pieces on the bottom to save her from having a baby mullet.

"Thanks," he retorts and he leans back, refusing to savor the still hot coffee. He might drink it, but he won't like it. "Are you done here?"

"Is there any other way we can express our apologies to you? We'd like to keep this as peaceful as possible, and I know you're still upset." Johanna asks, and this time, she holds his stare.

After a long moment, Eric nods his head.

"Actually, there is."

 

He tries to text Four multiple times – an eloquent message along the lines of- if you marry your initiate I'll make sure you're sent over the fucking wall and eaten alive by wild boars - all with no response.

He growls in frustration the fifth time, slamming the phone onto his desk and leaning back to cross his arms over his chest. For the past few days he'd repeatedly told him that he couldn't marry his initiate, and that were he to go through with it, he'd have a lot of pissed off people waiting for him.

Like Lauren.

Despite having her own class to train, she'd been in Eric's office no less than twelves times to snippily remind him that Four's dream wedding would interfere with a little problem known as their rankings. She didn't care how many initiates Eric planned on keeping; if one of them were wed to Four, she could rank dead last and still stay in Dauntless and that could start a whole slew of problems no one wanted to be responsible for.

She told him this, in an abnormally high pitched voice, all while glaring at him as if he'd been the one to suggest Four propose. He wanted to smack her for thinking he'd ever dare wish Four's hand in marriage.

"I told you, I'm handling it." He barks the words at her, wondering if Max really had to deal with this shit. He doesn't remember him being in charge of Four's mental status, but maybe this was why Max always seemed to pawn most of his responsibility to Eric. Especially when it came to Four. He briefly wonder if he can repawn it back onto Max. Surely, he couldn't be that busy with his retirement.

"I doubt you can handle this," Lauren goads him, clearly braver than normal. She adjusts her ponytail, then widens her stance to show him that she really isn't leaving.

"Get the fuck out of my office. It'll be over today," Eric tells her again, settling back in his chair and waiting for her to actually get the fuck out of his office. He wondered what her class was doing, and if she'd just left them to fend for themselves.

"Today, right." she makes a noise of disbelief, and he rolls his eyes.

"He can barely tie his shoes by himself. He's not getting married." He pauses, standing up and smirking when Lauren takes a step back, her cheeks flushing bright red. "Besides, no one in their right mind would ever want to marry Four. I'll talk to the girl myself. I'll set her straight."

Lauren gives him a funny look, one he can't quite interpret.

He leaves without saying another word to her, rubbing at his temples and wondering if Ellie can meet him for lunch. He comes to a dead halt in the middle of the hallway, a wave of horror washing over him, as he wonders if Lauren is so upset because maybe, just maybe, she likes Four.

 

The disappointment when Ellie tells him she can't meet him for lunch is grossly and embarrassingly overwhelming.

She's got six clients waiting for her, and she quickly tells him she'll eat something at work but she'll be home for dinner. She tells him she loves him, her words sounding so sweetly apologetic, that it makes his chest hurt even more when he says goodbye and returns to eat lunch in his office, alone.

 

"You had the leader of Amity watch Emma while you went to your meeting? I thought you were wildly against people you didn't approve of touching her?" Ellie looks amused as she takes a bite of noodles, her eyes fixed on him.

It had been a few days since Johanna had visited, and he'd been feeling pretty smug about his superior parenting. He'd played off having Emma at work like it was nothing, like he could bring her along every day if he wanted to. He'd told Ellie it had gone so well that he'd forgotten all about having Johanna watch Emma for a bit.

Until Emma ratted him out.

She sat across from him at the dinner table, babbling away what at first sounded like nonsense, and then sounded strangely like ammmy.

Ellie had picked up on it immediately. Up until this point, Emma had only said things like mama, milk, no, and Eric swore she had called him Rick once. But the appearance of this new slew of baby talk had Ellie looking at him curiously until he sheepishly confessed he'd had Johanna babysit.

"She offered," he explains testily, watching as Ellie turned to feed Emma a bite of something orange. Emma spits it out immediately, then reaches for her sippy cup still chanting am ammy ammy ammy until Eric is quite sure she says the word amity. "She asked if there was anything she could do to make up for fucking up the deliveries, and I needed to sit in on Tori's review. It all worked out fine."

Ellie tries to hide her laugh but a smile breaks out across her face.

"I wonder if she told Emma all the secrets of Amity. Maybe slipped her a little peace serum in her milk when you weren't looking. She obviously tried to each her how to say the name of the faction she's supposed to choose."

Eric scowls around his chicken, ignoring Ellie's teasing.

Up until then, his night had been going pretty well. He'd been thrilled to come home and discover Ellie had made him some sort of Chinese food, and he'd happily kicked of his boots and taken the seat beside her at their dining room table. It felt nice to come home to a home cooked meal, even more so knowing that Ellie was there every night, waiting to eat with him.

Tonight was no exception.

Everyone once in a while, his mind flashed back to when he was alone. He could see himself sitting in his apartment, doing something mundane like working while he ate to distract himself from his thoughts. He'd occasionally invite a random girl over, but it was never anything other than to forget about the pressure he was under, and she was gone as soon as his mind was blank.

But living with Ellie was different, and having a family was different. At first he struggled with the fact that they were here with him forever. Ellie had long relinquished her apartment to a new member, and the addition of Emma had meant Eric moving them out of the main compound. He had feared that people wouldn't take him seriously anymore, that knowing he went home to a family at night might diminish his reputation. He woke up one day and realized that was stupid, that he was lucky to have them, and anyone who thought otherwise could take a nice relaxing swim in the chasm.

Besides, even he had to admit it was it was far more enjoyable to come home to his family than to go home alone.

It made it even better than Ellie and Emma were the best things he'd ever had in his life. Both of them always looked utterly delighted to see him, even when he wasn't in the best of moods. They fit into his life so perfectly that he couldn't imagine anyone else in his place.

Even tonight, their apartment was quiet and calm, said for the sound of Emma. She was still eating noodles, but mostly dropping them everywhere and shrieking at Eric as if he should be picking them up for her on demand.

"What would you do if that's what she picked? If she picks a faction other than Dauntless?"

He realizes Ellie is staring at him, her big eyes fixed on his eyes, their daughter watching the both of them. He stares back, his gaze flitting between Ellie and his daughter, and his chest clenches so painfully that he can't catch his breath.

"She won't."

He says the words loudly, worry evident even to himself, as Emma smiles over at him, as if maybe she understands and she's promising to never leave him.

 

He doesn't get the chance to talk to Four.

He hates to admit it, but his class is productive; they've worked through their training seamlessly, even completing their tasks on time. He stares at the electronic document Four has sent him, each box neatly marked and scored, each initiate ranked with the notations he'd asked for. This time around, Eric had done away with the paper sheets that they used to keep score. He could never read Four's handwriting, so he'd utilized the tablets Max had given out last year, and had Four and Lauren do everything on there.

So far, Four was better at it than Lauren.

His reports always came much earlier than hers, fully completed despite the fact that he had more initiates than ever. Eric quickly skimmed them, sighing heavily when he realizes he doesn't have a free second to stop by unannounced.

 

He tries hard to balance everything, but he can't help but feeling like some things are falling to the side.

Like his hair.

He finally caves in, blocking out three hours of his schedule, determined to actually eat lunch and get his haircut. He makes sure his name is on Ellie's books, happily strutting out of his office and down to the salon. He waves off the squeak from his receptionist, telling her that he'll be back, and ignoring her worried look. She stressed about everything, despite being fairly capable to handling whatever he threw at her.

He forgets about the minute he steps foot in the salon and sees Ellie waiting for him.

Sometimes, she makes him feel like the very Eric who'd been blind to see who she was. She smiles at him like it's the first time she's seen him- even though he'd stood beside her while she'd gotten dressed this morning. He'd watched her pick out the dark, off the shoulder dress and he'd even helped her zip it up. He'd kissed her goodbye after she put on the impractically high shoes that still left her shorter than him, tying the bow around her ankles while she sat on his bed. He'd held on to her, fingers in her hair and a strange, desperate urge to shove her back onto his bed despite the fact that they'd both be late for work.

But even now, the sight of her makes his chest tight.

She's staring at him and only him, her eyes glued to him despite the influx of younger, less cranky men filing in behind him. He can hear one or two ask for her, and he gets a tiny thrill of delight when the receptionist informs them Ellie is booked for the afternoon.

He strolls over to her, suddenly planning on doing more than just getting his hair cut.

 

"Marry me."

He blurts out the words as he thrusts in and out of her, dangerously close to coming.

His afternoon was going exceptionally well now that gotten everything he wanted and then some. His hair was short and perfectly parted, he'd eaten lunch with Ellie, smirking over their salads and chicken sandwiches, and then he'd gleefully carried her to their bedroom.

He misses this, the way he'd always been able to have her when he wanted, now that their lives were a bit more complicated. They didn't always have the luxury of staying up late anymore, nor did he have the time to spend hours in bed with hour without a care. And now, after working all day then coming home to make dinner and put Emma to bed, she was usually falling asleep by the time she brushed her teeth.

He didn't hate it; their lives were theirs, and it just meant that moments like this were all the sweeter.

Especially right now, they way she was splayed out beneath him, her ankles wrapped around his waist and her hands griping his hair. She was ruining the hairstyle she'd give him, but it didn't matter. He was buried deep inside her, enjoying how warm and wet she was, and it was all for him.

So he'd blurted out a proposal, panicking slightly when Ellie's eyes widened and not in a good way.

"Ellie?"

He'd kept thrusting into her, ducking his head down so he could kiss away her shocked expression, relaxing only when her fingers scrape against his scalp.

"Eric, you want to get married?"

Her words make him stop, leaving them a tangle of warm skin, her limbs wrapped through his. His heart beats wildly, and for the first time in life, he feels truly and utterly terrified. She might say no, that he was a good father, a decent boyfriend, but maybe he wasn't marriage material. After all, he spent a lot of time at work lately, he'd talked about Four more than he ever wanted to, and he was pretty sure he'd forgotten to tip her or even pay for his haircut.

"Yeah," he blurts out. He'd never in his life planned to ask anyone to marry him, but this is different. He doesn't think he'll be able to look at her ever again if she says no.

Ellie bites her lip, and she finally nods her head.

"Of course, I'll marry you."

He kisses her furiously, frantically, over and over until her smile is so big that he regrets not asking her sooner.

 

Two days later, he finds Four's initiate by the Chasm, his feet dangling over and a grim look on his face.

It hadn't taken him long to figure out that all the drunk initiates ended up in the same place, and he silently then loudly cursed at Four for even telling them that they could have a day off. It would have been better if they were given no down time, altogether skipping the chance of them winding up wasted and missing their old life.

This one was no exception.

The boy looks up at Eric blearily, his eyes red and his movement slow.

"Coming here was a mistake," the kid slurs, then attempts to stand up. "They said it would be fun and it's not fun at all. There's not even any hot water left by the time it's my turn to shower." He slips a tiny bit, saved only by Eric's grasp on his arm.

For a moment, he is held in place the force of Eric, seconds away from falling to a watery death. He locks eye with Eric, fear flashing through them, before Eric yanks him up and shoves him onto the ground.

"Deal with it. It's only temporary," Eric hisses at him, and the boy nods his head, smartly picking up on Eric's lack of patience.

"Will we all make it through?" He tries to stand again, and this time, he looks a little green when he finds his footing. "Four said that even if we didn't we could still come to his wedding."

"Motherfucker." Eric takes off, not even bothering to count to ten, as he storms past the no longer missing initiate, and towards the direction of Four's apartment.

 

"Can you even really tell me no?"

Four glares at him from across the table as Eric stabs at his macaroni and cheese with great enthusiasm. He's clearly mistaken Eric's death stare as excitement to see him, making himself at home as his class milled around, loudly looking for seats.

Eric glares back at him, for it's far too early in the day to see Four, let alone be subject to talking to him. He hadn't been home when Eric had stopped by after finding his missing initiate, or maybe he'd just been too confused to open the door. Either way, he'd spotted Eric in the cafeteria, chewing his lunch violently, and taken it upon himself to join him at his table.

He'd only been sitting there for maybe two blissful minutes before Four had loudly announced he fully planned on marrying the girl of his dreams whether Eric approved of it or not. He'd enthusiastically told Eric that this was it, and he'd known from the minute he'd spotted her walking with his class.

"I mean, she stands out. It's like I don't even notice any of the other fifty eight initiates."

"You have eighty left," Eric grunts, regretting every life decision he'd ever made that lead up to this point.

It was unfair, really. Because despite Four's sudden and illicit romance, the training class seemed to be going fairly well. The only ones to bow out were those whom Eric had expected. Three from Amity, who he'd sent back to the farm and told them they better be working or he'd personally come after them, two from Candor who loudly told him they were promised better living arrangements -which he quickly squashed by telling them they could enjoy more space by living outside, and two from Abnegation who simply couldn't keep up. Eric really didn't have anything he could critique Four on, and it had left him somewhat at ease.

Until he'd made the mistake of eating in the cafeteria.

Four was certainly using the time to his advantage. The atmosphere in the cafeteria had suddenly become strangely quiet as the class found seats and stopped to watch what was going on. The initiates had recently learned a little more about who Eric was, and seeing him in person had left them nervous. He was getting a lot of averted stares, a lot of sneaky side glances, probably waiting for him to snap and even a few lingering ones from a few girls who seemed to think he wouldn't notice. He wanted to bark at them to turn around, that he had no interest in any of them, and even if he was, he'd never act on it.

Unlike Four, who was currently convinced that his dream wife was someone he was training.

"You'll never believe this either. It's the weirdest coincidence ever." He pauses, then leans in as though Eric is dying to hear this bit of information. "Her name is Eriqa. With a q. It's French."

Eric chokes on his drink, the hot liquid sliding into his lungs as he struggles to breathe.

"Fuck no. You can't marry her," he finally gasps, but Four shakes his head.

"I checked, and there's nothing written against it," he grins smugly, and Eric has never hated him more than in this moment. "It doesn't say I can't marry anyone in my class."

Before Eric can really let him have it, reminding him just how utterly ridiculous he sounds, Four stands up with a wide grin crosses his face. "We've already talked about it and we'd love for Emma to be our flower girl. You can come too, I guess."

He narrowly misses the steak knife Eric throws at him, and it lands besides one of his initiates. The boy panics, screaming loudly as the knife stabs right into the table, pinning his jacket to the table.

"You're demoted." Eric snarls, wondering if Tris is available for a new job.

 

"You threw a knife at Four?"

Ellie is staring up at him from his bed. She sounds strange, both entertained and impressed, as she readjusts the pillows before settling back against them. Sometimes Eric wonder just how he ended up with her. Had he told anyone else that his natural instinct after talking with Four had been to throw a sharp object at him, they would have run. Picked up their sleeping baby and high tailed it to the housing office to beg to be hidden in the darkest part of Dauntless.

But Ellie looks like she's trying not to laugh.

"Did you hit him?"

"Unfortunately, no. I did, however, manage to scare the shit out of a few in his class." He mutters the words while changing, tossing his shirt and pants to the side. "He said he's getting married and he wants Emma to be the flower girl."

This time, Ellie laughs out loud.

"Does he really? Does he know she can't walk yet? Is he going to carry her down the aisle? To his own child bride?"

"I didn't bother to ask," Eric snorts as he climbs into bed. Sleeping next to Ellie was second nature now, but every once in a while it still felt like he'd never slept beside her before. She always looked too happy to be lying in his bed, too willing to wrap herself around him, too soft for someone who hours ago had thrown a knife at a man out of sheer annoyance.

"He thinks she's three," he tells her, flashing back to his conversation in his office. "He also can't marry his initiate because if she doesn't make it, then he's got a whole other situation on his hand. One that I have no desire to sort out for him."

"Maybe," Ellie says softly, sliding her leg between his and squirming closer until there's no space between them. "Maybe just let him marry her. Maybe she'll keep him in a line since she wants to stay here."

Eric grunts.

He trails his fingers down Ellie's back, mentally counting the vertebrae. When he reaches the base of her spine he sighs, not wanting to say what he's about to.

"He said her name is Erica. But with a q."

This time, Ellie's laugh is so loud he fears she might wake up Emma. He scowls in the darkness, not enjoying the way that she's laughing so hard her shoulders are shaking as she tries to catch her breath.

"Erica with a q," she repeats, and he glares at her even if she can't see him.

"It's not funny," he hisses, and it wasn't.

Four had been his arch nemesis since he came here. He had to stare down his little runaway street rat face from the day the two of them arrived. He'd had to watch him walk around like he was so high and mighty, spouting off motivational quotes that he'd seen on ancient posters with pictures of kittens on them, pretending he'd come up with himself.

He'd watched him bumble his way through a relationship with an initiate once before, one who was now happily working far away from him, carefully avoiding her ex- boyfriend and his hair changes like the plague.

He'd even watched him take a brief detour as a sous chef, a stint that left half of Dauntless with a mild case of food poisoning and unable to fulfill their positions for two days. It was a fun few days of panic as Eric rapidly tried to staff almost every position in Dauntless with only a handful of men that had been smart enough to not eat in the dining hall that day.

It was always him who had cleaned up most of these messes. He'd carefully made sure Four succeeded so Eric himself wouldn't fail. He made sure things fell in place, made sure Dauntless ran smoothly, and he'd even tried to convince Tris to get back together with Four for everyone's sanity.

But there was no way he's letting Four getting away with this, not now, and not ever.

"It's certainly flattering," Ellie giggles, and for a moment Eric pines for his old life. One where no one knew an ounce of his business, one where he was terrifying and malicious and he'd just have stabbed Four in the cafeteria and then told him to clean up his own blood.

But as Ellie lets one hand rest of his shoulder, her fingers skimming over his tense muscles, he forgets about his old life all together. He focuses on how good she smells, how warm she is, and how sweet she is as she kisses him goodnight, whispering that she loves him as her hands trail lower, descending beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He decides he'll fix everything tomorrow.

 

"Today, initiate."

He growls the words, ever familiar and ever nasty, as Four's fiancée creeps towards her sparring partner. He eyes her viciously, biting down the criticism that's on the tip of his tongue, as it's not long before she's pummeled into the ground just like he expected.

He had kept his word, demoting Four for a temporary, undisclosed amount of time, and assigned him to the most remote patrol squad he could find. Maybe he should have partnered him up with Ginger, but for now, he wasn't coming anywhere near the class. Word had gotten out that Four had the hots for one of the initiates, and there was a pool going around on which one it was.

And with a good forty something girls left, it was anyone's guess.

Except for Eric's.

He spotted her name right away, of course. He also knew because she looked an awful lot like Tris, and she fought just as terribly as Tris did.

"Fantastic," he barks as Erica with a q picks herself up off the floor, her face smeared with blood. "Walk yourself to the nurse and come back when you're done. This doesn't excuse you from training for the rest of the day."

To her credit, she nods, and wipes at her face.

"Yes, sir."

Eric is surprised, but he keeps the nasty expression on his face until she's out of the room, and he returns to the class. They all worked hard, careful not to draw his attention to them, but now they're all staring, even more so when he barks at them to keep fighting until he returns.

He hopes they'll listen, because otherwise, they'll run laps until they collapse.

 

"Why did you propose to Four? You can't tell me that you're dumb enough to think you could actually marry him. Do you even want to be married to him?"

Erica with a with a q stares at him through a swollen eye and a smear of blood.

He'd caught up with her on the walk to the infirmary, grabbing her arm and jerking her back a step. He'd gone after her in hopes of threatening her until she agreed to stay away from Four, but when he saw her, all he could ask was why.

She looked like a decent person.

To be fair, she wasn't the worst in the class, not even after losing her fight. She could have a normal life here, one that didn't involve being married to someone who responded to being called a number. Fuck, she could even teach the class given the correct training and guidance.

He didn't really have any interest in her past that, but he had to know why someone would propose to Four. If her reasoning was simply because she thought it guaranteed her a spot here, then he could sort of appreciate that. He liked people that thought outside the box, and if she was willing to risk being known as Four's spouse just to have a warm bed to sleep in, then maybe she was smarter than he thought.

"I asked you a question, initiate. You really want to marry him?"

He cocks an eyebrow at her and she bites her lip and he knows right then and there that little miss Erica with a q had no desire to marry number boy.

"I didn't actually propose to him. He helped me get down from the ropes he had us climb. I got stuck at the top and I freaked out. He told me he understood and he coached me how to get down the right way. When I got down to the floor I jokingly said I was so relieved that I could marry him. I was just really happy that I wasn't up so high anymore."

Her confession makes him smirk.

"And he thought you were serious?"

She nods, this time, wiping at her cheek with her hand. She only smears the blood on her face, making her look even worse. "I didn't know how to tell him that wasn't what I meant. He seemed really…happy."

Eric stares at her, his mind working quickly. He regrets the words he's about to say, and he loathes that he feels a pang of guilt because he knows what'll happen if he doesn't.

"You'll have to tell him. As soon as you're back from the infirmary. I'll send you to him. Tell him that you can't marry him."

She cringes.

"You get why, though. Right?" He cocks an eyebrow at her, relieved when she nods.

"I know. It wouldn't be fair."

"Good." He says the word a bit sharply, and his tone continues when she asks him if he's married.

"You're asking me that? Do you know who I am?"

"I do," she bites her lip again, and she's never reminded him more of Tris than right now. Mouthy and stupid. "We all heard who you are. But Four said that you have a baby and a wife and he sounded kind of jealous. I just didn't know if it was true or if he…"

"Go to the infirmary, now. Come find me when you're done."

Eric snarls the words at her, turning sharply on his heel and taking off in the direction of the training room.

 

He doesn't make it there.

He runs directly into Tris, swearing loudly when she sort of bounces off of him, steadying herself in the dark hallway.

"Sorry, sir." She mutters the words as she straightens her spine up, and he graciously forgives her because at the very least she'd addressed him properly. "I didn't see you there."

"What do you want, Stiff?" He hisses, dusting off her invisible germs off his jacket. He glares down at her, wondering just where she was going. Last time he checked, she had a job to do, and that job wasn't wandering through the hallways at her leisure.

"Is it true? That Four is getting married?"

Eric glares at her, something vicious and dark.

She opens her mouth again, a panicked expression crossing her face and Eric realize he's seen this look before. Ellie had it once, when she thought he was leaving her because she was pregnant. He cringes when she speaks, taking an unnecessary step towards him.

"I need to talk to him."


End file.
